Bone Drabbles
by to-infinity
Summary: My collection of Charlie Bone drabbles. Not really a connected story, unless stated. Various pairings. Often OOC.
1. Marco Pollo

**Title: **Marco Pollo

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **CharliexOlivia

**Word Count: **255

**Warning/s: **Nopee.

**Summary: **He'd always be calling out for her.

**A/N: **So, my laptop, the one with all my other stories' information and upcoming chapters does _not_ like me. Alright, that's a sugar couting it; it just _refuses _to charge, innevitably making it so I simply can't use it. :\ So, for now, I'll stick to these drabbles. I love this couple. (:

* * *

Sometimes, it was rather hard for him to face her.

Her bright, beautiful smiles, perfectly complimented by twinkling eyes and her ever-changing hair. Her laugh, which she, in her always flamboyant way, announced was probably the dorkiest thing on the face of the planet; Charlie thought it sounded magical. The way she flounced around everywhere like she owned the place- which, when Charlie thought about it, was probably true in her own mind. How she managed to pull of some crazy outfit that _shouldn't _be pull-off-able but for her somehow just _was_.

How she never seemed to notice him.

But even if she didn't, he'd still chase her, still find ways so he could stand by her. Let her chatter on aimlessly, just so he could see how enthusiastic she got. Watch her in the numerous plays she always invited him to, just to see how good she was at pretending to be whatever it was this time. Asking her to join him on his adventures so he always knew where she was, with him, and no one could end up using _her_ as some kind of ransom. Let her walk away from him everyday while he didn't do anything to stop her.

Because he knew that until then, until he could follow her, he'd always be calling out "Marco," and hoping that one day she's take the off-chance and say "Polo." It might take years, but that would make it all the better when he finally found her.

Charlie didn't think he'd ever stop.

**Fin.**


	2. Something Right

**Title: **Something Right

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **not-quite-yet LysanderxLauren

**Word Count: **469

**Warning/s: **None!

**Summary: **Skipping that day was probably the best thing he'd ever done, even if he did get pelted with marshmallows.

**A/N: **Inspired by Relient K's "Must Have Done Something Right." Do they ever _really _tell you where Lauren came from?

_

* * *

_

You came along one day and you rearranged my life

_All I gotta say is I must have done something right_

Relient K - Must Have Done Something Right

* * *

All he wanted was a pack of gum. Minty, fruity, tablet, or stick- that didn't matter to him at the time. He just wanted something that he could happily chew on for hours on end without having to spit it out; family parties for ninety year old great-great grandma's tended to be long affairs.

He remembered it almost perfectly.

"Can you get that for me?" Lysander had heard, stopping him from going into the candy isle. He almost groaned; Judge Sage was not tolerant about his kids being late to anything. But he turned anyway, sighing and prepared to speak.

But he didn't say a thing. _Couldn't._ Long hair, looking brown but he knew there was probably red and blond mixed in. Large, undoubtedly feminine hazel eyes. Rich, chocolate-y skin and, being a hormonal teenager he couldn't help but notice them, long legs on a nicely sculpted figure. His walking dream woman.

"Sorry, but I can't reach those marshmallows, and I need them for something. You wouldn't mind grabbing them for me, would you?" She said politely, an amused smile at his obvious once-over. "You're tall, so I'm sure you'd be able to reach."

He remembered flushing, which thankfully didn't show, and scrambling back to get them for her. "I'm Lysander. Sage." He remembered blurting out, and pulling off the closest one he could manage. Didn't feel that it took quite a bit of tugging to get free, which was always a bad sign. Didn't notice that it was dangerously perched on the edge of the shelf with half of it under the the others, pulling them as he tugged. Didn't take note of the first bag to fall.

"Lauren," she had said simply. And then "Oh my!" as they all came crashing down.

Bags upon bags tumbled down from the shelf, all falling onto him. He had dropped onto the floor with that surprise and was immediately covered with those stupid white puffs. Smooth, he had remembered thinking.

After that was only embarrassed clean ups and talking, and finally a number after walking her home.

Lysander absently nodded to whatever his father was screaming at him for not showing up at that probably really lame party, which had gone terribly wrong according to his also screaming mother; what with all the caterers screwing up and things popping and knocking over ever minute, he could see how it hadn't gone as planned. He wasn't really listening; he had better things to reflect on after all, but he definitely heard the loud "What else could you have done wrong!" his mom repeated over and over after hearing about his tumble. But he smiled to himself all the while, thinking that yes, he'd done something right. And he was going to call her soon.

And finally: I never got that gum.

**Fin.**


	3. Snow

**Title: **Snow

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Gabriel

**Word Count: **235

**Warning/s: **Maybe a tad of angst, but eh.

**Summary: **He wished he could be like it.

**A/N: **I hate to pick on this guy. :X I had to write this though.

* * *

Gabriel Silk looked out his window, sighing and looking at the winter's first signs of snow, wispy small dots of white falling gracefully to the floor sporadically. He smiled softly as he saw them, looking like flower petals breezing down after a particularly harsh wind.

Snow. It was only a type of weather precipitation. But nonetheless, it was probably one of the prettiest stuff in nature. Snow, which fell slowly and regally, like it had absolutely no problem with falling, and no matter how cold it was or how annoying it was to scoop out of the driveway it was absolutely amazing being able to see the multitude of shapes it could make. It was pretty, yet it was cold and destructive. It was fun and yet it could give you frostbite.

He wished he could be like it, the snow. Being able to go down with grace, still looking beautiful and unhurt after being basically thrust away from where they were before. He wished that he could stay as noble as the snow, which was basically rejected by the clouds who had had too much of them. He wished he could be as _fierce _as the snow, which did whatever it pleased despite whatever rules nature had and whatever the people wanted.

But Gabriel knew that if he was the snow, he'd be the one that fell astray, only to be trampled on later.

**Fin.**


	4. Superman

**Title:** Superman

**Rating:** PG

**Pairing:** Billy, with mentions of the others

**Word Count: **677

**Warning/s:** ANGST HOMESSS. And, er, maybe spoilers for book...6?

**Summary:** He wished he could be like them.

**A/N:** Set _before _the Pets' Café shut down and before he helps out Asa. I haven't read it in a while, and some things might be off. Originally, I was gonna do some more sad Gabe angst, for some reason that seems to be what I want to write right now?, but I decided that maybe Billy fit this agenda a bit more. The ending's not that great, but still. Enjoy my slight unintentional Billy bashing, although I really don't mean to hate on him.

_

* * *

_

_If I could be your Superman _

_I'd fly you to the stars and back again_

_..._

_But I can only write this song _

_And tell you that I'm not that strong_

_'Cause I'm no Superman_

Joe Brooks – Superman

* * *

Billy looked longing at Rembrandt and the Blue Boa, hoping that they would somehow be able to speak to him. It had only been a few days, but already, he felt like years had passed since he lost it. His gift. The rat had tried to help him, getting the magical cats- the Flames- to stay as close to the boy as they could be despite his slight fear of them, but there wasn't a thing that they could do. He didn't want to tell anyone yet; that would be the most mortifying thing ever. He had to though, with Charlie's most recent plan.

It was hard. Terribly hard.

Lately, with all the excitement going on, Billy had begun feeling pretty useless. Losing his endowment was like losing a part of himself, literally. It was as if someone had brutally mutilated his arm with a chain saw or something; he knew he had it before, and maybe it was just waiting for something, but it was impossible for him to use in its current state. He felt like just letting go and bawling his eyes out. Out there was Asa Pike, or Charlie was determined that it was, and here he was, being no help at all. He couldn't even try to ask the howling beast if he _was_ who all his friends believed he was. Asking the howler required his endowment and now…

Billy wanted desperately to help. Asa had most likely saved all their lives, and he had selflessly risked his own neck by just doing so. One thing Billy had learned in all his short years was that gratitude was important. Thanks to Charlie and Paton and Olivia he could leave the Bloor's; even if it wasn't permanent, he was glad for just that. He knew how it felt to have someone help you. Getting Asa out would give the changeling the same feeling, and even the sense of repayment. But he couldn't do anything.

Tancred was the only one as unhelpful as he was right now, and that was because that one girl, Tracey, who he was absolutely infatuated with. Olivia's illusions were beyond belief in the right situations; Lysander was the most powerful with his spirits/ghost/people things; Emma was the perfect unseen weapon; Charlie was a _magician_ for goodness sake; even Benjamin, who didn't go to their school and wasn't even endowed, was more helpful: He'd hypothesized that the creature was Asa and had even began the plan to help him escape.

_If I were someone great, someone like, well, a Superman maybe, I wouldn't have to do this. I'd be strong and fearless; I'd be amazing. I could help! I'd never be sitting here, sulking like a stupid _childish_ loser._ Billy thought bitterly to himself._ I could _help _everyone and then some. _He'd have beaten back the Bloor's single-handed, helped the suffering changer out of his confinements, save everyone from any danger there was- ever.

But, Billy was pained to think, but he wasn't a Superman, and he didn't have the power to protect them all. He never even had that in the first place. He couldn't help anyone break free or even talk to one of his closest animal friends. He didn't have the strength to rid them of the constant interference of those Bloor's. He was, well, _useless._ He clenched his fists in his lap. No, he was worse than that. He was useless _and_ unable to do anything about it.

Mrs. Onimous looked onto the boy, a frown marring her lean face. She grabbed a plate of seed cakes, a pot of tea and a few cups, and walked herself over to his unoccupied table, startling him. "Billy."

"Mrs. Onimous." He greeted, although his voice wasn't chipper in the slightest.

She couldn't tell what was wrong, couldn't help the poor boy. He didn't look like he wanted to talk about this to even Rembrandt, who he confided everything in. Not knowing what to do, she sat there with him, just staring out the window as he was.

**Fin.**


	5. Forgetting Someone? Part One

**Title: **Forgetting Something? Part One

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Fidelio, Charlie, and mentions of Olivia and Tancred

**Word Count: **433

**Warning/s: **Nah, this one's clean.

**Summary: **It's time to call Psychiatrist Hot Line.

**A/N: **This one's gonna be in two, 'cause I really don't feel like finishing it now.

* * *

Finally finished wrapping, Charlie stood, placing the presents on his desk. He frowned then; something was wrong.

He counted them slowly, then recounted.

He knew he'd forgotten something.

Snatching up a phone, he dialed quickly, his fingers remembering the number well enough that he didn't even have to look to see what he was doing.

_

* * *

_

Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring-

"Fidelio would you _please _get that!" His mother's loud voice sang, still managing to come off as irritated even in the whimsical musical sound.

"Yes mum!" He called back, voice easily carrying through the halll despite the noise. He shoved his head through another sweater while blindly reaching out for the still ringing phone. It brushed against his fingertips and he instantly grabbed it, holding it as the antenna just barely dangled from his hands. Pressing the answer button, he paused momentarily, remembering to keep his voice calm and in check as he said, professionally, "Gunn residence, this is Fidelio speaking. How may I help you?"

"I need a therapist, stat!" A familiar voice yelled frantically through the receiver.

Fidelio took his ear away, hissing at the loud voice. He rubbed at it and switched to the other ear. "Psychiatrist hotline, how may I help?"

Agitated, the caller whined, "Del!"

"Okay, okay." He sighed, flinching at how _loud _his friend was right now. He could handle noise, sure; just preferably not while it was pressed right up against his eardrums. "What's up Charlie?"

"I forgot. To get. Her present." Charlie blurted out, and Fidelio could practically imagine him: biting at his fingernails, pacing, tousling his already undefined hair about, his eyes bugged out. It was pretty comedic, he admitted to himself.

Wait.

"What do ya mean forgot!" Fidelio asked in shock. How could he _forget_? The musician had even called him before he went to remind him! "You went out shopping _yesterday._"

"I know, I know!" By the sounds of it, Fidelio assumed, Charlie was probably frustrated or hyperventilating. Or possibly both. "But, I don't know! I just don't have one!"

Fidelio shift his weight onto one leg, leaning against the wall next to the phone. That was bad. Charlie was Olivia's secret Santa, and it was practically a sin that he wouldn't turn up with something. "You're screwed!"

"If I wanted insults I woulda called Tanc!" Charlie snapped.

Fidelio rolled his eyes. "Well, what are you going to do?"

"Exactly! I dunno what to do! Help me Fido. The party is _today_!"

The young Gunn stood there for a few moments, mulling over the problem. Then, he said, "Okay, here's the plan…"

**TBC.**


	6. New

**Title: **New

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Emma

**Word Count: **OMG 100!

**Warning/s: **CLEAN.

**Summary: **She liked it. A lot.

**A/N: **Mmm, my shortest yet! Short and sweet. Yes.

* * *

_It's feelin' free_

_To hold your head up high _

_And shout out "This is who I am."_

Eddplant - What's It Like?

* * *

Emma Tolly.

Not Emilia Moon.

That's going to take a bit of getting used to, she thought to herself. But then again, so is her new room, her new expressions and feelings, her new- or old but long lost, depending on how you look at it- aunt, the new friends, and, well, _everything_. Because everything was new.

It was weird. Definitely weird. Not bad weird, _especially _not bad weird, but good weird didn't feel right if she ever said it. It was more like…an odd revelation that was pretty unexpected.

And she was now free.

She kind of liked it.

**Fin.**


	7. Taking Flight

**Title: **Taking Flight

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Emma

**Word Count: **190

**Warning/s: **CLEAN.

**Summary: **And she learned to fly.

**A/N: **I'm starting a series of drabbles revolved around most, if not all, songs by Something Corporate right now in honor of their reunion tour. This is the start. (:

_

* * *

_

Staring into the intersection, she thinks that she can fly and she might

_Holding on in a new direction, she's gonna try it tonight_

Something Corporate - Straw Dog

* * *

Emma looked down at the long road under her aunt's bookshop. The normally busy intersection was pretty empty, considering the time of night it was. With her room on the top floor, it was a pretty far drop down, and Emma itched to know just how far.

That was a lie. Or, not a truth.

She wanted to feel the drop. She wanted to be able to glide down and feel the difference in altitudes, the different feels of the ground. She wanted to be graceful, not clumsy and awkward like usual. She wanted to feel the breath of wind on her back and flowing under her, steering herself gently over it.

She wanted to _fly._

Oh, she knew she _could _do it. Her endowment was becoming a bird, transformation if you will.

But…

She'd never really done it on her own before. Of her free will.

That would be new. And probably extraordinarily terrifying.

But…

Emma breathed deeply. She was going to try it.

And it better work.

That night, a lone bird was seen cruising the streets near the chapel, twisting and gliding as smoothly as the wind.

**Fin.**


	8. Same Shit, Different Day

**Title: **Same Shit, Different Day

**Rating: **PG-13, but only for a tad bit of language (namely the title)

**Pairing: **Manfred, and mentions of other people

**Word Count: **492

**Warning/s: **Language?

**Summary: **Sometimes, Manfred doesn't hate Bone. But on sometimes.

**A/N: **Inspired by my auntie's shirt, which said the title. I did not know they even _made _shirts that said that back in the '70s. And Tom Milsom's "Jake's Song," even though the story is _completely_ different than the song topic. But yeah. I just want to do a Manfred fic. ;P

* * *

…_Now it's not just a phase_

_All I do these days…_

Tom Milsom (Hexachordal) - Jake's Song

* * *

His alarm went off.

_Get up._

He reached out and shut it off with practiced movement.

_Shower._

He went into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, bathed, and dressed impeccably.

_Eat._

He went down to the Drama Cafeteria, settling at the middle of head table with a plate of trashy looking food.

_Yell at things that don't matter._

He walked through the halls, dashing out warnings and detentions. A few students timidly (or not in Endless' case, but that was Endless) approached him, but he kept walking to his office.

_Work._

He filled out meaningless forms, reading over them no matter how tedious they were, and no matter that he knew that other people _should've _been the ones to do it.

_Eat._

The same spot, the same dish, the same table, the same boredom.

_Yell._

He went back into the halls, still throwing out detentions, warnings, and now frustrated curses.

_Work._

He filled out some more paperwork. He studied a little more for that new experiment that Grandfather was sure would work _"this time around."_ He wasn't quite so convinced, but he wasn't about to say anything. As long as he knew how to save his skin, he'd be fine.

_Eat._

Dinner this time, in the Great Hall. He still sat at the head table; although he wasn't at the same spot, the same people, decorations, and chatter was around him, and it made the dinner practically the same as every other meal before it.

_Yell and work._

He surveyed all the King's children as they worked, eyeing them suspiciously and making sure that they were actually making some kind of progress. He'd say one of two things: "Bone, stop daydreaming!" or "Torsson calm down!" Today was the former.

_Sleep._

He retired to his room.

_Repeat._

And the day just happened again.

Only, that wasn't always the case.

He'd never say it, but those times where his days were completely ruined, not going at all to the usual monotonous routine, _those _were always the best. Whether he had to dissect or observe something for his Grandfather or he had to talk to a student (who shivered violently in their shoes) about their behavior or even set a couple things straight with _them_, they all beat the unsatisfying feeling of doing what he normally would, something more than a habit or a phase in his life.

And Bone, Manfred always concluded, was the only one who could make all _three _of those things happen in a short amount of time.

Bone- the hotheaded youth brat- was the _only _one who broke that pattern.

So he couldn't help it if he didn't _hate _the kid sometimes.

But until the day Bone would finally stop it, make the incessant actions he always did all the time stop flowing the same way each time for good, Manfred just lived with his situation.

After all, it wasn't too bad.

It was just the same shit, different days.

**Fin.**


	9. Not the Time

**Title: **Not the Time

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing: **Tancred x Emma, and a little Manfred

**Word Count: **746

**Warning/s: **A little, or a lot, of OOC, and language.

**Summary: **She wasn't a doll, dammit.

**A/N: **Emma isn't on my list of super fabulous people. But I like Tanc, so this is gonna work! And I know, so out of character, but whatever.

_

* * *

_

Oh maybe, I don't need ya t' save me

_Just want ya t' help me_

_'Cause you're keepin' me up all night_

Take That - Up All Night

* * *

He always acted like she was going to break.

She wasn't, for the record.

He helped her do _everything._ He would take her brushes, move her easel, and even carry her sculptures on those rare events where she actually made one. He escorted her down the stairs and hold her hand while doing it. She'd never ask, but he'd whisk away her books if she held any, and her bag if it looked full. He watched her, every time, as she chiseled away at a slab, making sure that she didn't stab herself.

The knife wasn't even _sharp_.

Sometimes it was nice. Oh, yes, the holding hands part was a bit of euphoric dream to her on certain occasions, and she could at least be assured that he cared enough to do all that for her.

But Emma wasn't some kind of ready-to-fall-apart porcelain collectable _doll, _dammit, and all that _caring _was really starting to get on her last nerve.

Especially when it was pretty inconvenient sometimes.

Well, most off the time.

So, she couldn't help it if she. Just. Snapped.

"Here, Em, let me get that for you."

"No!" Emma tried to say, tried to keep hold of her stuff. "No, it's all right Tancred, you don't-"

He brushed her off with his easy, breezy laugh. "Nope, I got it." And he did it again. Stole away her not even _minutely _heavy book bag, taking it right from her arm. And he book, which she was in the middle of studying, was taken right from her fingers and snapped shut.

Emma looked at the storm-bringer in horror. That bird. She…that bird! It was hard enough to find it the first time, what with the stupid publishers _not _requiring some kind of index or _something _helpful for her to find it, and she'd had to flip through that thing a million times before she'd finally spotted that small, barely there paragraph and that tiny captioned picture of it.

And Tancred had just closed it. Lost her page. She'd just found it!

"Tancred Torsson, give me my stuff back!" She asked calmly. She wanted to scream. She couldn't lose her cool though, that her thing, her own little persona. No! It was so not the time to yell. But. He'd closed it. He'd _closed _it!

"No, it's okay, I got this for you. It looked heavy, and I don't want you straining yourself," he replied.

That was it! "GIVE IT BACK!"

Tancred recoiled, shocked. His mouth was gaped open, eyes rounding into large circular blue orbs. "Wha- What?" He stuttered.

She couldn't keep it in. Later, she would distinctly remember reading that no, it was not good to keep in your frustrations because yes, you would literally lose control and take it out on something/body, but that didn't register in her brain at the moment. "Tanc, I can hold that by myself, thank you," she said, agitated with his stupid expression. "You just interrupted me at a crucial part of my research and this isn't the only time you have! Now, I appreciate your concern and it is nice to have your help sometimes, but I am not going to die by carrying a couple things and _you_," Emma poked a finger at his chest, "don't have to come saving me from every faintly sharp object, each staircase, and any little thing that weighs more that 5 pounds! So…" she fussed for a finishing word. "So, _please _stop it!"

Tancred blinked. It wasn't everyday, or most days, or maybe _ever_, that Emma yelled. Then he grinned, wide and maniacally, like always. And it was totally inappropriate.

"Why are you smiling!" Emma demanded, not getting it. That stupid…UGH. Something was seriously…

"Honestly?" He asked.

"Yes!"

Leaning in close to her, he loomed over her petite frame. He was still grinning, and his eyes twinkled merrily, like he'd somehow accomplished something. "I knew getting you all rilled up would be pretty damn hot," he admitted.

It was her turn to be stunned.

Then he kissed her.

Emma could've _died_.

But then…

"No public displays of affection! Especially not in the hall! Detention!"

Tancred scowled, breaking off. "Damn Manfred."

Emma blinked. And again. Then: "You…you jackass!"

Tancred grimaced, dropping and clutching the leg she'd kicked. "What was that for?"

"For…for making me yell! And for, um, kissing me!"

He was still on the floor when she left, but she distinctly heard, "I knew I could get you to cuss too!"

**Fin.**

*Also, I've just noticed that I've forgotten to add disclaimers. So, for all my previous ones, I don't own the CoTRK series!


	10. Holes

**Title: **Holes

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing: **Asa

**Word Count:** 298

**Warning/s: **Language, I suppose, for ONE word.

**Disclaimer:** Che. If I owned it, then Asa'd still be there. RED HEAD HOTNESS. ;D

**Summary: **They were the wrong type.

**A/N: **Although the song is _originally _by The Beatles, I discovered the song from a Fray cover, and I recommend listening to that one, 'cause I like it better. It's up to you though. And thanks dictionarydotcom for that wonderful series of definitions. Formatting of this chapter looks…weird though.

_

* * *

_

_I'm fixin' a hole where the rain gets in_

_And stops my mind from wandering_

_Where it will go_

The Beatles - Fixing A Hole

_

* * *

_

Hole: n. The excavated habitation of an animal; burrow.

No. That's not quite right. Asa looked around. No animals here. Although. Asa shrugged. He might as well be one. So maybe.

_Hole: n. A place of solitary confinement; dungeon._

Asa reflected on that one. He was alone all the time. And they did "confine" him there.

_Hole: n. An embarrassing position or predicament._

That didn't…exactly fit. But, Asa shook his head in disgust, although there was no one to see him. He didn't really want to be seen in this…he looked back at the page. "Hole: n. A small, dingy, or shabby place." Yeah, they both worked. But it wasn't what he was looking for.

_Hole. Noun. A fault or flaw._

Still no. He frowned, tossing the page again. None of these definitions were right.

Day after day, one paper was tossed down his little "Hole: n. A place of solitary confinement; dungeon" and before he could ask why, or even _who _was sending them down, a shadowy figure would run off. He knew who it was of course; Manfred's ideas of torture were a lot like this: reflection. But no matter how many of these little slip-its that Manfred sent down, Asa knew they were the wrong type, the wrong words.

Whoever wrote these didn't know _jack _about a hole.

Because, he thought, a hole should be defined:

_Hole: n. A boring little shit place where nothing ever happens and you just sit there to wallow in misery and absolute _boredom _just hoping someone's going t' bust you out, but knowing that no one's gonna get here so you just sit there in the pretty much darkness and dirt howling at nothing, 'cause even though they can take everything else away, they ain't gonna take your voice._

******Fin.**


	11. Nothing Bad This Time

**Title: **Nothing Bad This Time

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Benjamin and Runner Bean

**Word Count: **463

**Warning/s: **Mm, nah.

**Disclaimer:** NO OWNZ HOMES.

**Summary: **That was the day his life did a total one-eighty.

**A/N: **I'm a dog person. You? Second installment for my SoCo tribute.

* * *

_Stop the rain from fallin'_

_Keep my oceans calm _

_This time I know nothing's wrong_

Something Corporate - Hurricane (Formal Weather Pattern)

* * *

Every time his mom brought something home, it was bad. For that, Benjamin could be sure.

The first time he realized this was when she brought home the murder suspect in the case she was investigating. Of course, what _couldn't _go wrong when you do _that_? But then she started doing more. It was almost ridiculous, really, but he remembered most of them: the mustache, the wig, the specially formatted spy car, the umbrella gun, the "game system that will be good for you honey and they say it's fun too," the bomb-rigged Monopoly game, the stolen Egyptian artifact from the mystery case…

The list could go on _forever_.

He didn't understand why she even brought stuff back from work. _Detectives _really shouldn't do that.

So when he heard "Honey, I got you something! Come see it," from the doorway, Benjamin ran into his room to gear up.

Then he walked back downstairs.

"What _are _you wearing?" His father had asked.

"Chain mail," Ben replied, motioning over his uniform with the red umbrella (with the gun removed of course). He had his bike helmet on, his pillows taped to his body and a raincoat thrown over _that, _his father's special steel-toes boots, and a painters' mask and swimming goggles on his face.

His mother _tsk_-ed, muttering to herself, but she smiled. "Okay, hun, close your eyes," and Ben followed her directions warily. He didn't dare open them, but he could smell something different.

Uh oh. Smell was usually the worst.

_Remember the time she got you a stink bomb hidden in a lunchbox? _He mocked to himself.

But he followed through with it and waited.

"Okay, you can look now!"

He peeked out. There was a…box?

He took off the goggles.

A…dog?

"He was in the house. You know, in the one for the Robledo murder case me and Dad were working on." His mother explained. "Their dog had just given birth, and the police weren't sure what to do with it's babies since the owner was…passed…So the chief let us keep one. Isn't that great?"

The puppy was actually pretty large, even though he guessed it couldn't be that old since it was still in a litter box, and shaggy, with large ears and legs. It was currently curled into a ball, sleeping.

He liked it.

He nodded.

Ben reached out, seeing if he could get close to it. The dog stirred, blinking wearily, before opening it's blue eyes and looking around. It yipped a tiny bark. Then it got up, walked to his outstretched fingers and sniffed. The dog apparently approved, if licking you was approval.

Ben grinned, stood up, and gave a pounce-hug to his mom. She laughed, and he tuned to see the dog following him.

He _loved _it.

**Fin.**


	12. Yes, Grandfather

**Title: **Yes, Grandfather

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Dr. (Harold) Bloor, with mentions of Ezekiel, Manfred, and Mrs. Bloor

**Word Count: **827

**Warning/s: **Mmm, safe! A tad angst if you're sensitive.

**Disclaimer:** Yep, I'm Jenny Nimmo. And the sky is brown, your feet are on your abdomen, and clouds run around talking to children.

**Summary: **Some things you just can't fight.

**A/N: **This is probably off storyline, I'm not going t' lie. Probably OOC too. And Ezekiel can walk, for the record. And I don't remember Mrs. Bloor's name. It _is _Dorothy right?

* * *

_And they say children make the greatest soldiers_

_They do just like they're told a__nd take up less space on the ground_

_But I'm not fighting a war and it seems to me we've been here before_

Something Corporate - Airports

* * *

"Children are the perfect soldiers," his grandfather had once told him, "They listen and they don't question it. Unless, of course, they aren't disciplined that way. Which is why you will shape them right, one day." At the time, Harold hadn't cared enough to take that comment into thought; he just nodded and said "Yes, Grandfather." He was busy filling out forms, applying to a school to get that doctorate he had always dreamed of having. Pediatrics. That had been his goal since, well, he didn't remember _exactly _when, but for a while, since around the time his father and mother…departed…

After that, him and Dorothy could move away from his haunting estate, settle down somewhere nice, not to mention far away from his strange family, and take care of Manfred. His little boy, only 5 and a half months right now.

His greatest accomplishment in life.

So, when he was busy packing to take leave to the best school that accepted him, he was surprised when his grandfather walked in, a stern glare directed at his son. "Yes, Grandfather?" He had said absently, but not so distracted as to forget to keep his manners. His grandfather wasn't a particularly strong man, but he was horrible when Harold didn't do it _his _way.

And "horrible" went further than just "boot me off the inheritance."

It went more into "I will ruin your life forever."

"Where are you going?"

Harold looked at him curiously, but simply said, "I've applied and have been accepted to a college for the pediatric degree. We've discussed this-"

"Pediatric degree?" Ezekiel screeched, enraged suddenly. "That is not the plan, foolish boy!"

"What plan?" The grandson had replied, and Harold knew something was going to go wrong. When his grandfather had a plan, he wanted everyone to go with it, not matter what they wanted.

"The plan! How do you not know the plan! You agreed!" His father's father continued to rage about, glaring at his grandchild. _I just want to leave,_ Harold wanted to say, but kept silent. "The plan where you take over the school! Your father was supposed to do that, but of course he just went and _died _, didn't he?"

Harold clenched his fists, but didn't reply.

"So, it is your responsibility to take over this. Do you understand?"

Harold didn't reply. His mind whirled, thoughts overlapping. He didn't _want _this. Why couldn't he break away from the family? All he wanted was to get that degree and move away. Make a new life with his wife.

"You had better do this Harold." Ezekiel said darkly. "Think of all I did for you!"

He had done a lot since his father, Bartholomew, died. Without Ezekiel, Harold would have probably been stuck working at dead-end jobs that would get him no where. He also wouldn't have met Dorothy 3 years ago, or had Manfred.

"Yes, yes," Ezekiel grinned, wide and toothy, knowing his descendant was mulling over his comment. "So you do this, or I refuse to pay for that college."

Like that was a threat. He could just pay-

Harold flinched. No, the school was top notch, and even if he went to the cheapest, the degree would cost too much for him to be able pay, and he'd be left in debt for, well, forever. He knew that if he became headmaster for that old school he'd _never _be able to escape the family, let alone get that degree. But he…He couldn't go, not at all. His grandfather wouldn't let him access any of the family funds yet, so he couldn't pay himself, and if he accepted the headmaster position, he wouldn't get to get the degree regardless of if he did gain access or not.

"You see boy?" Ezekiel whispered, knowing what the young man was thinking. "You have to do this. You have no choice." It was probably the worst moment ever, but the old man decided it was fine if he cackled loudly right there.

Harold Bloor was trapped. It was do this or get severed off forcefully. While that sounded good, he knew that if he was, he'd have to work jobs that wouldn't even start to support the life he and Dorothy wanted, even with her violinist career. At least he could make money for his family with the former…

If he knew what he knew now, Harold would have never taken the job. He'd have lived the sad, but probably more joy-filled life of store clerk or waiter or _something_. The job twisted him, made him forget about Dorothy and made his son a monster in even his own eyes. But he didn't.

Harold squared his jaw, keeping back all emotions. After all, Ezekiel _always _got what he wanted right?"Yes, Grandfather."

Doctor- as if he deserved that title- Harold Bloor straightened his tie.

He looked into the mirror.

And he walked into a new life.

But not the one he wanted.

**Fin.**


	13. For Daddy's Good Day

**Title: **For Daddy's Good Day

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie x Lyell, but NOT romantically, just father x son kind of thing, you know?

**Word Count: **431

**Warning/s: **baby!Charlie?

**Disclaimer:** I _wish _I owned!

**Summary: **You only get one wish, so he was going to use it right.

**A/N: **Isn't it odd that no matter how many dangerous things Charlie gets into, he's all sunshine and smiles about it, or curious and adventurous, or well, _not _scared? What the heck is wrong with that kid? I wrote this as clarity for me.

_

* * *

_

Crawl, there's things that aren't worth giving up I know.

_When you can't bear the carry me I'll fight._

_You live the life you're given with the storms outside _

_Some days all I do is watch the sky_

_Today was a good day, today was a good day_

Something Corporate - Watch the Sky

* * *

He didn't remember all too much about his father; the main thing he was always told was that he played pianos, and pretty brilliantly at that. Most everything else he knew was about his…disappearance, and that was something he'd rather not talk about. Like, ever.

But he did know more, obviously. It couldn't be helped that he got more information about his dad. After all, as his mother had told him, "Lyell, your dad, was a great man." So when his mom, his uncle, Maisie, and yes, even when Grandma Bone spewed out insults about her own son, Charlie listened. And he didn't forget it.

But the only memory he could remember of the man himself, the only personal one that he didn't get from another person, was walking up to him, his father sitting at the piano like his family said that the man could never be apart from for too long, and crawling up to sit on the older man's lap. Charlie would sit, amazed as his dad glided his fingers effortlessly over the obviously worn, but still smooth and well cared for piano keys. He watched as his father played melodic notes over and over, each one light and enchanting. Then, and only at the end, Lyell picked his son up, sat him on the top of the piano so his little, two year old feet dangled under, barely touching the keys, but not enough to make any noise. After a small tickling fit- after all, don't _all _parents do that?- his father told him, and even though he didn't know what they meant at the time, Charlie still remember the words now: "Remember, son: Some things you shouldn't give up and you must fight for them, but even if it's bad, just say that it was a good day, and you'll be fine."

And that was only hours before his father went missing.

So for his birthday that year, little Charlie, who only knew a few handfuls of words that he had picked up here and there, remembered his wish. He had just turned three, and his mommy promised that if he made a wish, it _had to _come true. So he thought carefully, surprisingly serious for his tender age, and concluded his wish, no matter how poorly phrased:

"Please, I be strong and I fight fo' daddy good day."

That wish hadn't failed him since, so his mom hadn't lied to him. And until hid dad came back, until his father could carry him through all the trivial little dangers, he'd follow through with that wish.


	14. Forgetting Someone? Part 2

**Title: **Forgetting Something? Part 2

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie and Fidelio

**Word Count: **458

**Warning/s: **Nadda.

**Disclaimer: **If I owned this, Charlie would _so_ be a tad older. 12?

**Summary: **"Okay, here's the plan…"

**A/N: **Er, maybe three parts…

* * *

"So, you sure we can make it back in time?"

Fidelio wanted to bang his head into something, _anything_. Just as long as it was hard. However, being the musical prodigy he was gave him more self-control than that, so he was able to quietly resist the urge. It was definitely an option though. "Look, for the last-" he composed himself, giving himself a silent lecture. "Yes, Charlie, I am positive- no, I am absolutely convinced that yes, we _will _get to her party in time, okay?"

Charlie grumbled, showing a hand into his hair and further ruffling it's already messy state. He sighed, walking with his male friend on the street.

They were at some kind of mall, one Fidelio assured him would be a perfect place to get Liv her very own perfect present. Which, according to the paper, was _"Anything Olivia-like please. But no clothes, if you wouldn't mind, I am quite picky." _

…What the hell did that mean?

But Fidelio proved to be wrong.

No store, at least not the ones he'd past so far, were even opened. They all said something along the lines of _Closed for the holiday. Happy Christmas, _or some other lame excuse.

Che. Christmas was in like, Charlie checked his watch. Oh, well, even if it _just so happened _that it might be in only 9 hours, that doesn't mean that the stores should be-

"Look!" Fidelio shouted loudly. Charlie noted how it was just like his father's- musical without the intention. It was probably a family thing, but it was still somewhat unnerving sometimes. Regardless of his Gunn-family-analysis, Charlie whipped his head around, looking at Fidelio outstretched finger. He followed the line of sight.

It was by bare chance and luck that Fidelio managed to see the small place. It was tightly wedged between two other shops, and it didn't even have a large sign; rather, it had the name painted on the window mirror. Not to mention it was a purely white from the roof to the window words to the paint and even the _door knob_, if a tad dirtied by the wear of the outdoors, and with the snow falling heavier now, it was almost impossible to distinguish. Almost.

But, of course, Fidelio allowed himself, I _am _a genius.

"Olivia's Flower Garden?" Charlie asked incredulously. "You, Fidelio Gunn, want me, Charlie Bone, to go into a _flower shop_?"

"Hey, I'm gong too! And it's something Olivia right?"

"How?"

Fidelio crossed his arms defensively. "It _is _called Olivia's!"

**TBC.**


	15. Rain Dance

**Title: **Rain Dance

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Emma x Tancred

**Word Count: **369

**Warning/s: **fluffffff.

**Disclaimer: **Nah, I don't own that series. You think I'd be writing _fanfics _about it if I did?

**Summary: **Emma can't help but like the rain.

**A/N: **I love me some indie artists. Really, I do. This is, what, the third one I've featured in my drabbles? And I'm planning on adding some Blue Skies and Sam Hart too! Mmm. If you care enough to listen to the songs or find him (or the other mentioned men) , just Youtube the song…or Google it. Equally cool. (;

_

* * *

_

I like the rain, it reminds me that I'm not in Spain

_And maybe that makes me insane, or just a little strange, I'm not sure_

_But here we are, in this glorious English weather_

_Liquid sunshine's all the same, so I really can't complain_

Johnny Dark - I Like the Rain

* * *

Most people, Emma observed, really didn't like the rain. Or, at least, they found it a huge nuisance. What with the whole "wet precipitation is falling _everywhere _and so I have to either risk getting drenched or I have to tote around this stupid umbrella wherever I go" thing.

Emma wished she was one of them.

Because, really, you'd think that being a _bird _like she was, she wouldn't like it as much. Most birds didn't really enjoy the idea of being in flight and then suddenly pelted with rain, which dampens their feathers, and crash landing on who-knows-where. That thought was rather terrifying actually, and Emma shivered to think of ever getting into such a horrible situation like that.

But yet, she couldn't bring it in herself to hate the rain.

She _must _be insane_, _or just plain weird.

Maybe it was the strong- this would sound weird to anyone _but _her- emotions she could feel from it, washing over her and urging her to either abandon everything and just run and enjoy the joy it could give her or keep her calm and embrace its natural serenity. She might have been the only person ever to feel that, but every time she saw it, she longed to throw herself at the simple weather's feat and roll around in it like a feral animal. But no, she always picked the latter; she never lost her look.

Although.

She shouldn't say never.

Because whenever she sees it around one, just one blond English boy, it wasn't _just _rain.

It wasn't the type she was used to.

Because this rain, this was _his _emotions that poured in droplets, and it shone brightly, like some kind of liquid mirror that would let you see into him. It was his warmth that made the rain not cold to her touch, but refreshing. And only his rain could make her lose herself; make her run to it, question it, and even walk fearlessly through it.

Tancred.

So, she reflected, ignoring his attempts to catch her eye during the class, it was all because that stupid _boy _that she could never hate the rain.

But she wasn't complaining, of course. Just stating the facts.

**Fin.**


	16. Queen of Nothing

**Title: **Queen of Nothing

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairing:** Tancred x Tracy, well…

**Word Count:** 961

**Warning/s:** Mmm, maybe a tad bit of language if you're like, 10.

**Summary:** What had he seen in her?

**A/N:** TRACY BASHING. :D

* * *

_So, you dare tell me who to be_

_Who died and made you king of anything?_

…

_Let me hold your crown, babe_

Sara Bareilles – King of Anything

* * *

"…And I was like, screw you hun, because everyone knows that Adri is like, not worth anyone's time, since she's such a," she snorted daintily, as if doing that didn't make it an 'unlady-like' snort at all, and "you know. And then she got all pissy at me and threw a brush at me. At _me_!"

_I wonder what everyone's doing right now. It's been a while since I've talked to them. Well, at least, wait…_

"Like, the nerve! And then, she started leaving, so I told everyone that she had like, a crush on that nerdy guy, you know, Shane or something, and everyone gasped and laughed 'cause everyone knows that I totally had that girl down."

_I haven't talked to Sander in that long? No, I distinctly remember…But I don't. _Tancred frowned. _That can't be right._

"But no, she was all mad! So, like, she said I was a _bitch. _Can you _believe_ her? I can't! I mean, like, Adri was so out of line! That stupid…like, oh my god. Tancred!" Tracy leaned forward, snapping her fingers in front of him. Her pink nails clicked together, loudly, hurting his ears.

He flinched, looking back at her. Tracy was the image of beauty; bleach blond hair that hung in goddess-like curls to frame her face, gray eyes that were smoky and seductively hidden under long black lashes, crystal clear skin with the most even tan he'd ever seen, and a killer figure all complemented her in the most perfect way possible. He felt so awkward in his jeans and tee and jacket combo, compared to her own top and skirt.

And _he _was _her boyfriend._

He was pretty damn good.

"Like, are you even listening to me?" Tracy scowled, giving Tancred a look that clearly said something like "how could you _not_?"

He cleared his throat. "Sorry. I was thinking about other things."

She sneered, "What else could you be thinking about?" She laughed, flipping her gorgeous hair. "Everything that needs to be on your mind is like, right here." Tancred's frown deepened as he watched he laugh at her own- very poor- joke. She stopped when she noticed that he wasn't joining in with her. He didn't even have that dreamy I'm-so-lucky-right-now stare on her, which was his only excuse. "Like, why aren't you laughing?" She demanded.

"I have friends you know."

"Yeah, like, me, and Stacy, and Evan and-"

Tancred snorted. "Evan is a total deuce."

"What?" Tracy screeched. He flinched again and looked around. He wasn't normally against making a scene, but they _were _in a restaurant…

"He's a deuce. A jackass." Tancred clarified.

"Like, maybe he is. But he's still popular."

Tancred looked at her flippant comment. She would let him get away with calling Evan _that_? No, she agreed?

What exactly was going on?

"Look Tancred, I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but like, straighten it out. Like, now."

"What?" He asked. Unknowing to him, a small gust started up again.

Tracy rolled her eyes, glaring disdainfully at the wind. "Like seriously. Stop. You can't act like that if you're popular now."

"Popular?" He repeated dumbly. The breeze grew a little bit stronger.

"Uh, yeah." She rolled her eyes. Again. Shouldn't she have a headache or something? "Like, I have a reputation to keep, so my _boyfriend _can't look like some idiot, okay?"

"But I was just thinking of my friends." Tancred murmured, feeling odd. What _was _happening?

"So, what? If they make you like that, you have to _stop_ thinking of them."

"What?" He blurted eyes wide. "Like what?"

"All sentimental and all that bull. You can't be popular like that." Tracy looked again at the stirring wind. "And I thought you'd gotten rid of _that._"

Tancred looked around and noticed the only thing changed. "My wind? You wanted me to get rid of my _wind_?"

"It's so, like, ugly."

He could feel the storm brewing, something that made him feel oddly comfortable. Had he ever stormed- no, where _had _his signature weather been? It wasn't gone the whole time. Right?

He had never felt anything but awkward and uncoordinated around her. Except for now.

That…that couldn't be right.

"So you want me to get rid of the wind _and _not think about _my friends_?" He questioned.

"Like, yes! Either that or you can't be with me. Could you please stop asking questions?" She looked hysterical. "Call your freaky stuff off me!"

Tancred didn't answer. He stared at her.

What had he seen in her? Tracy was a walking blow-up Barbie. Her hair had misplaced extensions, all the wrong colors, and showed through. Her hair was obviously died, and her roots were starting to show. Her curls, which he'd found luxurious, were limp and dry and overly hair sprayed. They looked plastic. If he wasn't mistaken, those were contacts and fake lashes too, and bits of make-up glue shimmered beneath her eyelids. Her face looked tight, too tight. You can't get Botox at 14 can you?

No. Was it…He'd always figured they were ruffles on her shirt. But, she never wore ruffles. She didn't stuff her bra right? No. Tissues didn't…They were always too perky.

And what was she wearing? It was freaking _cold. _Did she want hypothermia?

_No, she wants to show off her stuffed boobs. _Tancred's mind supplied.

And that tan.

Was she orange?

Tancred stared harder. He didn't believe it.

There were…splotches. Dark spots and light spots.

Ew.

He walked away.

He had better things to do.

Namely, find Lysander Sage.

And beg for forgiveness.

And shower him with praise for the next week and a half to a month, depending on the circumstance.

Tancred nodded, taking in the snow. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

**Fin.**


	17. And Then There Were Two

**Title: **And Then There Were Two

**Rating:** PG

**Pairing:** Olivia x Charlie

**Word Count:** Exactly 100. :D

**Disclaimer: **Ahahaha. I wish I owned. Sigh~

**Warning/s:** NADA.

**Summary:** She just couldn't handle it.

**A/N:** So, I was flipping through the Time Twister today. And I just thought that even though _I'm _not a Charlie-freak, two of the same looking guy might just kill me.

* * *

Two Charlie's.

Well, no, that was wrong. One _real _Charlie and one _very similar looking to Charlie _Henry.

But, if you didn't know them or you didn't look close enough (while Henry was dressed normally and his hair wasn't flattened by who knows what), you'd never be able to tell. You would think: Two Charlie's.

Olivia could've died.

It was just too much to look at.

Even though she knew the truth.

_Two _Charlie's.

But of course, the perpetual messy look was always going to be hotter.

But still.

_Two Charlie's._

It was a miracle she didn't kneel over now.

**Fin.**


	18. This or That?

**Title: **This or That?

**Rating:** PG

**Pairing:** Olivia

**Word Count: **72

**Disclaimer: **No ownership intended.

**Warning/s:** Eet eez clean fo' you to-day!

**Summary:** There were so, so many choices.

**A/N:** Inspired by the lady at the wig store in the mall. Picking one isn't _that _hard, right? - -"

* * *

_One fish two fish red fish blue fish_

_Black fish blue fish old fish new fish._

_Some are red and some are blue. Some are old and some are new._

Dr. Seuss - One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish

* * *

Black hair, blond hair, blue, purple, red, green?

Red.

Magenta, burgundy, candy apple, fire engine-

Screw it. Black.

Short, medium, long?

Short.

Straight, curled?

Curls.

Ringlets, beach-y, romantic, princess, spiral-

Romantic.

Fringe or no fringe?

Yes.

Side or straight.

Side.

Long or-

Long.

Olivia sighed. And that was just her _hair._

Jacket, no jacket?

No.

Tank top, tube top, spaghetti strap, tee, v-neck, off-shoulder, cowl, polo, button up, halter…

**Fin.**


	19. Heat Stroke

**Title: **Heat Stroke

**Rating:** PG-13, just in case this is deemed "violent"

**Pairing:** Charlie, and it hates on G-ma Bone

**Word Count:** 99

**Disclaimer: **Nuh-uh.

**Warning/s:** You may call it violent. I might call it "hateful thoughts."

**Summary:** Yes. It was hot.

**A/N:** Is it just me, or is it UNBEARABLEY HOT in California right now?

* * *

Sometimes-

That's a lie.

Charlie really hoped that Grandma Bone just did the universe a favor and dropped dead one day. Or better yet, burned in a house fire. No funeral service needed then, and the worms wouldn't have to stare at her face all day.

Because, really, did you _need _five industrial sized fans, thirteen personals, and two desk fans in your _bedroom_?

And all the ice in the freezer?

No.

It was almost starting to get unbearable now.

Charlie looked at the staircase,

Would it be murder to freeze her?

He could give her his first hug!

**Fin.**


	20. Billboards

**Title: **Billboards

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing: **Charlie x Olivia

**Word Count: **639

**Disclaimer: **I dun own.

**Warning/s: **Minor language accounts.

**Summary: **Charlie. He's popular, right?

**A/N: **Bahahaha. I had this sudden inspiration after a friend of mine called me the "ringleader" of our little band/group/thing. I was all like, "Huh?" because Imean, like, I'm _so _not. But according to them, I'm pretty damn known. xD I hope this is cute; oh, that was _so _my goal._

* * *

_

And you don't care

_Your face is on a billboard _

_And you're everywhere_

Something Corporate - You're Gone

* * *

Olivia shifted uncomfortably as she trudged through the hallways. Noise-free zone her bedazzled khakis. It wasn't that they were talking about her, no, she was way beyond used to that. At least, she thought not. But, no, that wasn't what irked her normally composed form.

"Have you seen him…"

"That boy, Charlie Bone? Yeah, did you hear…"

"I swear, that guy is…"

And her _favorite_: a giggle and "Like, oh my god, he is so hot…"

Yes, dammit, he was!

But that wasn't any of their business.

Disgusted, Olivia always walked faster as she heard these, never listening. Everyone knew that those things were rubbish anyways.

Olivia, the practical queen of this whole drama business, didn't like the Charlie fever.

What was with everyone? Didn't they have anything better to gossip about? Rumor had it that Amelia Shrink, the dashing goddess, was chasing after _the _Manfred Bloor. (And, obviously, she knew; her sources knew anything and everything there was to know about all things possible.) Wasn't that way more interesting than Charlie?

Well, to people who weren't in the little Charlie gang, that is.

Because really, why was he running around the gossip mill?

It was _Charlie _Bone.

Sure, Olivia admitted, he was probably the best looking thing she'd ever seen in her lifetime and he had a dangerous adventure sense (which she'd never admit was a bit of a turn on) and he had a pretty rocky relationship with the founders of the school he was _currently attending _and he was pretty fit and he was friendly in that weird, dorky sense and he had "magical powers," as Kathryn from dance 1B had put it, and not one of his friends was unpopular and, after finally growing up and hitting 16, he was starting to grow from pretty damn cute to pretty damn hot and…

Oh, fine, so he wasn't ugly and he was popular from his little stunts. So what if that made him the perfect target for anything that was going to be said about anyone.

So what?

And, what made it the worst, was that the idiot didn't seem to care about this one bit.

According to Emma, who she confided in occasionally, he even liked it a bit. But what was with that stupid wink the bird had given her?

Wrong question right now…What was wrong with him?

"Liv! There you are, Fido and I have been looking everywhere for you!"

"Didn't I say that was getting old- the whole Fido thing?" Fidelio complained, socking Charlie's shoulder playfully.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, whatever, _Del_.Isn't that like, a pickle or something?" He grinned at his friend, who sighed in mock defeat, and then turned to Olivia. "So, let's go! Break's only another 15 minutes! We've got tons to do!"

Olivia stare dumbly at him. And then to his thrust out hand.

Fidelio's eyes twinkled merrily as he nudged his best (guy) friend. "Like what kind of things hmm?" Pause. "Ow, okay sorry Charlie. Dirty jokes are gone."

Olivia kept staring. What the heck? Why was some kind of gossip legend doing telling _her _to go with him? Should she take it? She wasn't…

"Come on Liv! Lots to do," Charlie decided for her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders when she failed to do anything.

_Oh, that's right. _Confident Olivia- Liv- snapped, kicking back Secretly Insecure Olivia. _Because unlike you, he doesn't give a hoot. And plus, you dolt, he likes your ass, so get to it!_

* * *

"Have you seen him…Yeah, Charlie, I heard he was…"

"That boy, Charlie Bone? Yeah, did you hear he finally…"

"I swear, that guy is pretty lucky. Snagging that piece of…"

"Like, oh my god, he is so hot. Too bad that girl's got him. Yeah her. Olivia Vertigo. They make a pretty cute couple huh?"

**Fin.**


	21. For Better or Worse

**Title: **For Better or Worse

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Dr. Bloor and Paton, and mentions of others

**Word Count: **698**  
**

**Disclaimer: **Clean! :P

**Warning/s: **Possible, probable, OOC

**Summary: **Sometimes you need a little perspective. Or a lot.

**A/N: **I know, this is a _highly _improbable situation. But I just heard this song and I thought of these guys and well…this is the result I suppose. I'm sure that this is weird or confusing or something. But I had an idea and I had to post. So, yeah.

_

* * *

We can feel the air_

_Rush out, out from the center_

_Not like one side is any better_

_Stand up, as they've been preaching_

_My best theory is already in me_

Jimmy Eat World - My Best Theory

* * *

They stopped, neither looking at each other, but both acknowledging the other's presence. The tension, which should have been thick, was simmering lowly, as if it wasn't yet made certain that the two men, the two _enemies_, were by each other, shoulders almost touching in the narrow corridor.

Paton Yewbeam wanted to clear his throat, wanted to make the other man feel uncomfortable as he should've been rather than just a little strung. He almost dared to glance to his left, where the headmaster stood, but resisted. He wouldn't give in to the temptation to stare the other down; no, if someone did, it had better be Bloor.

Because the good guys are always better.

Dr. Harold Bloor, tall and bulky as he was, was only staring at the ground. He could've-should've- looked up and glowered at his "rival," but he didn't…want to. He knew he could; oh, yes he could, what with his strong build it wouldn't be right _not_ to be a little terrified of the man. But he wouldn't look at the Yewbeam. No, if anyone bowed to that level, it would have to be the so-called mentor of all those little bratty children- those little _menaces _that thought that, of all things, they were doing something for some kind of good cause.

Because, after all, those good guys had to realize that they didn't always win, and they wouldn't this time, or ever.

And because, Bloor reflected each and every day, what good cause were they really fighting for that made _them _the good ones?

* * *

"I don't get it."

Paton surprised himself by speaking. He hadn't meant to, hadn't _wanted_ to, but he had definitely been thinking those exact word for the past minute. The two men hadn't moved an inch, unless you counted Paton restlessly stepping from foot to foot when nothing proved to happen.

"What don't you _understand_, Yewbeam?" Dr. Bloor corrected.

"This. Why do you fight for that side?" Paton found himself rambling. He couldn't stop even if he wanted to- all the words just flowed out from his thoughts. "Why are you on the bad group? What do you possibly have against us?" Paton sneered. "You aren't even endowed."

Dr. Bloor couldn't figure out if that last comment was a insult or just managed to come out and sound offending. He let it go; he'd gotten over the jealousy long ago and except for a time or two, it never resurfaced. Instead: "What do you mean by "the bad side," may I ask."

Paton blinked, almost turning to look at his enemy, baffled. "I'm sure you get what I mean."

"No," Dr. Bloor answered in his measured voice, "I don't. What exactly is the bad side? Why are you the good ones; after all, as far as I know, that is a self-proclaimed title. Whoever made you the ones who were doing things right? What if," the headmaster almost whispered, and he could feel the air thicken as his questions bounced onto the man beside him, "in reality, what if _you're _the ones who are wrong?"

Paton frowned. He didn't want to say it, but he really didn't know either. There wasn't exactly proof that he was doing anything right. It was opinion after all. But… "No. I am sure of it."

Harold Bloor hadn't really expected the man to be so quick about his reply, nor that confident about it. He regained a quick composure. "You are? But how, tell me, is either side better than the other?"

"I…" Paton wanted to say that they just _were_, but knew that was a weak answer. "I…Just know it. I'm sure you do too."

"I don't."

"Well," Paton's voice steeled. "I suppose that we're just different then."

"Yes, I suppose so too. I guess we both have a different take- a _theory_- on this little fiasco."

"That we do," Paton agreed stiffly.

As the two enemies walked away, the tension still not as suffocating as it should be, their thoughts were completely different. The Bloor, although not knowing what for, felt a satisfaction of some kind, as if he'd accomplished something. The Yewbeam just walked, troubled.

What did make him better?

**Fin.**


	22. Shining Star

**Title: **Shining Star

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie x Olivia

**Word Count:**84

**Warning/s: **Nothing really…

**Disclaimer: **Erm. No.

**Summary: **She was like his own personal shooting star.

**A/N: **That ( ^ ) sounds oddly possessive. But whatever. Haha. This is…'Cause I'm a lame-o, and yes, I still love some of that pop crap, and er, I haven't written in like, a few days. :X

_

* * *

Hey._

_I'm looking up for my star girl._

_I guess I'm stuck in this mad world_

_With things that I wanna say,_

_But you're a million miles away._

Mcfly - Star Girl

* * *

She could act.

She could dance.

She could dress.

And heck, she could even _sing _a little bit.

She was amazing.

And when she was performing, looking and acting like a completely different person each and every time, never the same, she was always always _always _doingit spectacularly. No faults could be seen in her routines, and she practically glowed in the bright stage lights.

She was like Charlie's own star. His glow. His brilliance.

And for him, Olivia shone brighter than everyone else.

**Fin.**


	23. Like Gravity

**Title: **Like Gravity

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Olivia and mentions of like, everyone in that group

**Word Count: **965

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any part of the CotRK series. Nope.

**Warning/s: **Uhm. Yeah. Science and lots of it. It's a lot of information, and you have to make the connections yourself…

**Summary: **Science class leads to some serious thinking.

**A/N: This one's kind of weird! SORRY. **Anyway, I was reading this fanfic, it's called "Empathy" by DiePi on FF, and there was this quote talking about how Ichigo kind of sucks spirit pressure to him and like, sucks everyone to him. And then this idea just HIT ME. I think I'm stealing ideas here, kind of. But they aren't _really _the same, so…. ?

_

* * *

Just like the countless bodies that revolve around the sun_

_Planet Earth must come into balance with the one_

_That caused it all to be…_

Prince - Planet Earth

_Gravity starts to pull me down a little_

_I caught my breathe and headed towards the middle_

Joe Inoue - Gravity

* * *

"…_Okay. Now that we've covered the basics about our own planet- yes, Earth- and all the other Terrestrial planets and what are they called…Yes, Justin…Correct, Gas Giants, we'll be moving on to a larger subject. Now class, a solar system, and mind you there are many more than just ours, is simply the sun and all the planets and other space debris that float around it. Many solar systems can reside in even one galaxy; the Milky Way alone is thought to have approximately…"_

Olivia twirled a piece of her hair, absently noting what her teacher was rambling out. She tried to listen, really she was a pretty good student despite most people's opinion, but she couldn't. She was too busy, well, thinking. And it wasn't pointless or anything; no, she was thinking about planets.

Wouldn't that be a riot, she thought to herself, to tell the teacher you were too busy thinking about what they'd said to pay attention?

But it was true, of course. Olivia, in her immaculately dyed dark violet hair paired in a burnt gray uniform, was too busy thinking about solar systems.

Because after all, that was how _they _worked, right?

There were, technically, only 8 qualified planets, but she reflected that if it'd only been a few years since Pluto'd gotten ripped, she could consider it nine. And, as she delved deeper into her web of thoughts, there were exactly nine of them, not including Charlie but keeping Runner Bean. After all, the dog was there so many times he was practically a part of the group.

First, there was Mercury, and if she had her planet information down right (which, of course, she did), that one was the most like Emma. It wasn't, at first glace, unique, except for the ridges and extraordinary outer atmosphere, and without moons it wasn't interesting. But if you thought- if you _really_ thought, you'd notice that it was the closest to the sun, but it wasn't burned, only the atmosphere was harmed, and it still moved on, circulating the sun rather than moving away; far far away where it wouldn't have to face the thing that damaged it.

Like, Olivia noted, Emma, Charlie, and her damaged life with the Bloors. Charlie hadn't caused it, but staying, and seeing Charlie, well, that was as bad as being reminded of her Emilia days.

Then there was Venus. The hot, boring, planet. It had no distinguishing features other than the abnormal levels of greenhouse gases it held, and that just made it hot. Honestly, the coolest thing about it was that it was named after a serious beauty. But, like Gabriel, it seemed to harbor all it's heat- like the gerbils- rather that just pop a hole and let it out.

Next was Earth, and that was obviously her.

Who else would it's diversity be entitled to?

Then there was Mars. It was amazing, Mars. Everyone on Earth was intrigued at one point or another by this friendly planet, what with it's brilliant color to it's hills, mountains, and sand. Not to mention, of course, it's possible life. With its two moons, that made Mars positively outshine them all. Except Earth of course.

Just like the amazingly talented Fidelio.

Jupiter was next, and none other than Tancred would hit the bill. With it's signature red eye- or winds- Jupiter was the easiest it distinguish, but the hardest to predict. It was virtually impossible for them to land on the planet, since it was made of gases, but they already knew so much about it because how much energy it sent out. Jupiter was pretty hot inside, too, and everyone knows Tancred's temper.

Then there's Saturn. The one so similar to Jupiter, but so different also. Saturn with its distinguishing set of rings that floated around it and protected it with pieces of rock and ice and other thing, although you wouldn't know it was so dangerous without getting close to it. The "least dense planet in the whole of the solar system." Saturn, which had the only moon that could probably- might- sustain alien life. It was so intriguing.

Like Lysander maybe?

Then there was Uranus, which Olivia knew was definitely Billy. Uranus tilted on it's side almost completely; it was hard to tell if it was trying to completely avoid the sun or if it absolutely adored and trusted it. The planet wasn't hot like all the other planets; Uranus was the coldest gas giant and seemed unable to branch out heat like all the others.

Now there was Neptune, with it's average everything. It was hot, but not that hot. It was big, but not that big. It had moons, but not as many as its companions after the asteroid belt. It was a little like Benjamin.

Not to mention Runner Bean, who could be Pluto both in the sense that, like in Mickey Mouse, he was a dog and also that Pluto was always with or near Neptune and at the same faster, sometimes nearing a lot closer to the Sun.

But the thing about all these planets was all of them were drawn together with the amazing, unexpected force of gravity that the Sun constantly emitted. They were always held in line with it, revolving around and round and round. No matter how much the Sun burned, or how far away they were, or how much it probably would've annoyed the other planets to have to keep going to it, the Sun was always there, and it always drew them in.

Yes, Olivia admitted privately. Charlie could be the Sun.

And she, as acting planet Earth, was obviously staying by him.

Because even though he might pull at her, and she might be sucked in, she never really wanted to leave.

**Fin.**


	24. Let Loose

**Title: **Let Loose

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Olivia x Charlie (well, a sentence) and Padma x Anakin if that matters.

**Word Count:** 180

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Star Wars or the CotRK series.

**Warning/s: **STAR WARS BASHING. xDD

**Summary: **He wasn't Anakin.

**A/N: **I don't like Star Wars because of these exact thoughts. XDD And I'm serious. ._." And because I don't particularly like the one before this, I had to write another.

_

* * *

Let go the stress and pressure_

_Let go whatever's on your mind_

_Let in the positivity_

Joe Inoue - Nowhere

* * *

He scowled. If the guy was so mad at all those Jedi's he wanted to go and join the dark side to save his friggen wife, just go already! The movie was long enough without having to stretch on the stupid guy's tiresome conflicting feelings about who knows what. He watched as the man turned bitter. Turned unhappy, turned frustrated, and then just turned.

Charlie frowned, turning the channel. That movie was starting to bore him.

It was odd. And really depressing.

Even though it was a movie, he knew stuff like that happened: people just got really, really stressed and decided they couldn't take it anymore and they turned…ugly.

People, he ultimately decided, settling for some good, non-depression-inducing show, really had to let loose. Or man up.

After all, he hadn't cracked yet, even though he had his own Padma to worry about (although that wasn't her name, and Padma wasn't half as extravagant as Olivia even with those weird things on her head) and he fought his own Sith, so that Anakin guy must have really been weak.

**Fin.**


	25. Burn It Out Bright

**Title: **Burn It Out Bright

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing: **Tancred x Emma

**Word Count: **715**  
**

**Disclaimer: **I no ownz,

**Warning/s: **Mmm. Language.

**Summary: **He had to do it sooner or later.

**A/N: **I'm on a roll! :D (Not a very good roll; I don't like how my fics are coming out today, but a roll nonetheless.) Is it just me, or is it strange how the fics involving EMMA tend to be rated for language? Why do I do that? xD

_

* * *

Because life is short_

_By the time you know it, it's over_

_You have to go!_

_There's more than a million things to do_

…

_So burn it out bright, burn it out bright, burn it out_

Joe Inoue - Go

* * *

"_Son," his father looked him down as they both skimmed the wind, Tancred trying to get a hang of things. "I'm giving you advice, you know, before you go to that school of yours."_

"_Uh, sure."_

"_Remember the flames. The flames that never go out."_

_Tancred blushed, remembering his youthful curiosity._

"_If you ever, well, you know…You oughtta tell the girl, before she moves to another lad, lad. Life's to short for you to delay it."_

At the time he just blushed, and brushed the moment off as another one on the "Dad being all sentimental and shit" folder. But now, after he saw Emma giving Gabe a look that may or may not have been flirty, he knew his dad was right. Of course, he could've been being paranoid.

* * *

He walked in slow measured steps. Then stopped. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. He straightened, cleared his throat, and resumed walking in a way that he hoped looked much more confident than he felt at the moment. If it wasn't then well…he didn't want to think about that.

She heard footsteps and her beautiful blond head turned up. She looked in his direction and he gulped, feeling her eyes look straight at him as she took that moment to recognize his face. Then she, in her sweet voice, said, "Tancred."

He almost stopped.

But he had to go!

_Life's too short for you to delay._

He'd thought of how to do it a million different times over, but the more he thought, the more confused he'd gotten. So he'd decided on a simple approach.

"Hi Em." He probably squeaked that out in an ungodly feminine way, he decided, and Tancred couldn't help but scream at himself.

_You idiot now she's going to think you're insane and trying to molest her or something oh god what it wrong with you you idiot…_

She smiled and he could've died. He almost turned around to make sure no one else was behind him that she could possibly be looking at. She stood, collecting her books and stuff, "Well, uhm, what are you doing here?" She asked politely, like it was weird.

That put him out.

Maybe this wasn't the right flame his dad meant.

_Life's too short for you to delay._

He had to do it.

"I was just, uhm. I…Would you like to go for a walk?" He spluttered.

She nodded slowly. She probably thought he was stupid now, or something equally bad. "Oh…kay."

_Life's too short._

"Aw, damn," he bit out, startling her. "Do you like Gabe?"

"_What_?" She sounded alarmed.

He sighed. Yeah, obviously. "Nevermind, let's just go-"

"No. Why?"

"Because." Tancred muttered, both stubborn and flushed. "Because, I wanted to know."

"But _why?_" She pressed.

"Can't you let it go?"

"No." She was being unusually cynical.

Tancred didn't know what to make of the situation. She was acting weird. But after all, he'd started this conversation, so he better finish it. He'd probably be to embarrassed to talk to her after this - _because you're a stupid idiot who asks idiot questions _- so he decided on the truth. "Because I want to ask you out." Shit! Too bold.

She smiled softly. "Then no, I don't, and yes, I'd like to go out with you." Tancred looked at her in awe as she grabbed his hand. She caught his look and dropped it. "Sorry, holding hands is too early huh?"

She was back to shy?

What?

Wait.

"No!" He thought he screamed, and hoped he didn't. He pulled her hand back. "No. Uhm. Thanks."

"For what?"

"You're definitely the right flame."

* * *

"_Daddy, what's love like?" A little Tancred asked. _

"_Well, son," the giant answered, picking up his four-year-old. He set him on his knee and started to bob it, making the toddler scream. "It's like this." He looked at his wife, who sat in the corner knitting. "It's like a roller coaster and it's big and bright and happy."_

"_Bright? What's that?" Tancred frowned._

"_It's like a fire, son. A bright, bright fire that doesn't go out. And there's only one flame for you boy, so don't go messing it up. Burn it until it ends."_

_"But, Daddy, you say it don't end."_

_"It doesn't."_

**Fin.**_  
_


	26. Truffles

**Title: **Truffles

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Tancred x Emma

**Word Count: **703

**Disclaimer: **I no ownz.

**Warning/s: **NONE! :D Surprisingly. Well, maybe. I dunno.

**Summary: **Why girl ate them? He wanted to know.

**A/N: **Yeah, I've been on an absence due to schooling. So, don't hate homesss. JK. But yeah, I'm not gonna be posting these lightning speed anymore, if I ever did. "oo

* * *

"Explain to me why I have to come again?"

"Because," Tancred sighed, "my mum wants her truffles-"

"Right, what are those again?"

"These chocolate covered thingies. Hell if I know, they're not _for _me and they never will be. They look absolutely disgusting. Anyways, like I was saying. Mum wants some, and if one guy goes in to buy him he'll look like a total fatty trying to eat as much chocolate as he can to stuff himself pathetically, but if two guys go in, that makes it okay because if there's two guys, that makes _everything _alright!"

"No, it doesn't! You're logic is absolutely unfathomable," Lysander said in disgust. "And you're hardly a guy. You had to get all dressed up to walk to the _store_. You're practically a girl!"

"I'm ignoring that, but let's establish I'm a maah-haannn!" Tancred sang, rounding the corner and into the parking lot. "And if it makes you feel any better, I guess I should tell you that my mom said that I had to take the most trusted person I know, so you are, by these conditions, him."

Lysander considered this for a moment, then shook his head mournfully. "No, I'd rather not be trusted by _you_. You trust that hobo on Baker's Avenue, so you mustn't have great judgment; who _knows _what I must be like to be you're most trusted."

"Oi. That's me you're on about! Shut up!"

* * *

"So, we've got the truffles." Tancred carried the plastic bag of desserts in one hand and with the other, he rubbed a sore wound on his side. Lysander grunted, glaring through an armload of bags. "Okay," the blond sighed. "Maybe we got a little more-"

"You bought shampoo! _Shampoo._ This wasn't even a trip for personal hygiene!"

"Yes, well," Tancred conceded in shameless defeat, "everyone needs a little suds."

"You're such a woman!"

"Oi! We established this: I'm a man! And plus. Like I said, Everyone needs suds, especially the ones with softening agents."

"Oh, and I suppose they need a watermelon also?"

"No, obviously. That was an impulse."

Lysander groaned as a bag dropped, and glared as Tancred walked on. Struggling to bend down, he painstakingly reached out with his fingertips to get the plastic covered tray of cookies. He almost reached it, but then everything toppled from his grip. Tancred spun around sharply, and frowned. "Oh, now look what you've done," he sighed.

"Me?" Lysander almost protested, but blinked as he looked forward. "Is that…nah, she's still…I think, but, noo…Is that Emma?"

Tancred instantly straightened, pushing back his messy hair. "Where?" He hissed, trying to look composed.

"There, but she's with, well…"

"Is that…Is that another man!"

"Well, now, don't be hasty-"

"Another man!" Tancred sat in anguish, watching her pretty blond head throw back in a laugh as this _thing_, this _other guy_, smiled and leaned forward towards her, smiling what he could only describe as devilishly. This guy, whoever the hell he was, winked and muttered something else, and Emma roared again, her eyes crinkled shut from the laughing.

"Oh, come on, Tanc, everyone knows that just because there are two people sitting together in a restaurant, alone, and obviously enjoying each other's company, that doesn't mean that she's with him!"

Tancred looked at his friend.

"That…sounded bad."

"No…AUGH." Tancred ripped open his bag, trying to find something to hit. He instead encountered the box.

It was truffles.

Would he…

He ripped it open and crammed the first two inside his mouth. Lysander gaped. "You're…"

Tancred winced; it was rather dark chocolate-y. But, although it didn't really taste all that great, it, for some reason, made him feel calmer. He shoved in two more.

"Truffles. Oh, great, you're a comfort eater as well as an obsessive impulse shopper."

"Yeah, so?" Tancred barely managed out between chews.

"You are, most definitely, a girl."

Tancred didn't answer. Instead, he picked up the box and began walking back home.

* * *

"So, how was it?"

"Oh, Olivia," Emma wiped a tear from her eye, "that was amazing! It was a great illusion; honestly, I couldn't even tell it was you anymore!"

"Wonderful!" Olivia smiled. "So now that we've done boy, it's time for Tanc-"

"Oh please!"

**Fin.**


	27. Fairies

**Title: **Fairies

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie x Olivia

**Word Count: **285

**Disclaimer: **I don't own !

**Warning/s: **Nada.

**Summary: **It only made sense.

**A/N: **I'm in a bad mood. So, logically, that means I oughtta write something sweet. Right ?

* * *

Maybe she was a fairy.

If she was, he reasoned, then his whole attraction to her would make a lot more sense. Whose attention _wasn't _caught by a fairy after all? They're fairies; little pixie dust wielding magical deformities that worship the ground of nature. That's pretty weird, and everyone knows people like weird stuff, for whatever reason that might be.

So, she had to be one.

It would make his life so much easier if she could just admit to himself that yes, she was indeed a flying mythical being, or at least _part _of one. That was his urge to gasp in her presence, the tingles he got from her touch, and her habit of leaving him flustered and speechless could all be called normal side effects of her pixie dust leaving some kind of odd residue on him.

It made sense, really. A strange, slightly insane sense, but hey, that's a sense right?

Because even if she didn't shout it from the rooftops at everyone, Olivia Vertigo and her pure magnificence had to be fairy material. It wasn't natural to be that _flawless_; flawless skin, flawless style, flawless grace and perfection. She could do everything, she knew everything, and she was surely the prettiest sight he'd ever laid eyes on. She shouldn't be able to catch every eye in the room, shouldn't always plague the mind of one young man day in and out.

_That _was totally irrational. It didn't make any sense.

Right?

So, by logic, Charlie deduced that it was an affirmative; Ms. Vertigo was by all means Tinkerbelle. So, by all other rational thinking, that meant Charlie was her Peter Pan.

Even if she didn't quite know it yet.

**Fin.**


	28. Remedy

**Title: **Remedy

**Rating: **PG-like.

**Pairing: **Implied Gabe x Emma, but it's really only one sided.

**Word Count: **259

**Disclaimer: **Nope, I don't own, sorry. (;

**Warning/s: **Nuffin.

**Summary: **He doesn't get it, but he hoped she doesn't either.

**A/N: **Basically, this happened with me. Only, instead of my crush, which I really don't gotta go into right now, it was my best friend. INSPIRATION? I think so! :D

* * *

Gabriel Silk was in a bad mood.

It really didn't make much-scratch that, _any _sense for him to be as such, because really, nothing horrible had happened at all to make him so…moody. The day started out normally, as it always did, and his classes went precisely how they always went, and well, to be brief, everything was happening exactly _as it always did_, and that usually made him pretty satisfied, if not happy.

That made it all worse.

Because, really, Gabriel Silk was in a bad mood, and he didn't even know why.

There was no reason at all, but he still felt snarky and mad and plain out frustrated all day long. As a result, he had a tendency to moodily sulk through Bloor's with the worst scowl on his face, snarling at everyone near him, practically glaring at everyone who tried to talk with him, and glaring venomously at pretty much everyone else around. Inevitably that made him rather unapproachable, and although he'd succeeded in what he tried to accomplish, that met goal only made him feel even worse, making him grouchy and vicious and unnerved all day. It was horrible.

Gabriel Silk was in a very, very bad mood.

But then…

"Gabe?"

He looked up, ready to snap at whoever it was, but froze at that familiar blond hair. "Uhm. Yes?"

"Are you, well, okay?"

Oddly enough, he smiled, and replied, "You know, Em, I think I am."

Gabriel Silk was in a really, really good mood, and he just prayed she didn't know why.


	29. I Don't!

**Title: **I Don't!

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie x Olivia. One-sided? Maybe.

**Word Count: **250

**Disclaimer: **I own like, nothing. At all. Wooooow.

**Warning/s: **Clean, I believe.

**Summary: **Charlie really, really doesn't…

**A/N: **I dunno. This just occurred to me randomly in the car, and I thought it was brilliant so I texted it all and sent it to myself…Bad idea.

* * *

"I don't like her anymore," Charlie announced one day, strutting confidently into the room as if he owned the place (he didn't; it was Miss Ingledew's bookstore lobby) as he always did, a triumphant grin playing over his face as he did.

Gabriel and Fidelio looked at each other in disbelief, shaking their heads with a chuckle at their friend's irrational thinking. Even Billy frowned at this statement. "Right," the albino uttered as he sipped more tea, sarcasm seeping through each word easily.

Charlie rolled his eyes, shifting before settling on the couch comfortably, throwing his legs over the arm of the seat. "I am!" he persisted.

"Charlie, no, you aren't."

"Yes, Fidelio, I'll have you know that I am. See, I avoided looking, talking, and calling her for the whole week, and-"

The doorbell rang as someone walked through the entrance. "Oh, hello Charlie," Olivia smiled dazzlingly as she walked up the stairs. "You too, boys. Don't mind me. Just passing by to get to Emma's room." She disappeared as she climbed higher.

Gabe looked at his friend again, amused at how Charlie's jaw went slack and not missing how the other boy's eyes followed his not-crush as she went up. "So," he grinned, "short skirt huh?"

Charlie scowled.

"Still no?" Fidelio asked, knowing the answer already.

Charlie slumped, sighing, no longer looking as smugly regal as he did before. "I…no. I like her more every time I see her," he dramatized wistfully.

The other three boys laughed.

**Fin.**


	30. Make Believe

**Title: **Make Believe

**Rating: **PG-like.

**Pairing: **One-sided Gabe x Emma

**Word Count: **417

**Disclaimer: **I do not own either the song or the book. Nup.

**Warning/s: **Yeah, uhm, nothing really.

**Summary: **He had to believe it. Has to.

**A/N: **TO NOGOODDEED14. This one's it, although, now that I read it, I think the other one is better. Anyway. Oh my gosh, you totally read mah mind, girl, I was so planning this, but I never really felt like writing it until you reviewed it. x'D Oh, and on the side note, I totally dig the Doctor Whoness too! (I'm a profile stalker…) XD Yeah, well, this counts as a thanks fo' alerting and answer to your review, yes? On with it !

* * *

_I make believe that I impress_

_That every word, by design, turns a head_

…

_And this is my reaction to everything I fear_

'_Cause I've been going crazy, I don't wanna waste another minute here._

All Time Low -Weightless

* * *

Gabriel played pretend, day in and day out, because he had to.

He had to get her to look at him, had to catch her eye even if he wasn't stunning in the looks department, or lacked muscle, and his face usually looked devoid of any emotion that wasn't upset (even though, obviously he wasn't always upset). He didn't take into mind that he wasn't the funniest guy around, or the most charismatic, most charming or outgoing. It didn't matter to him as long as he got her attention.

Well, as long as he got a glance.

Because while she looked at him, spoke to him, walked and talked and messed around with him, it was painfully obvious that her attention was far from him.

But he didn't want to just give up.

Even if she did find interesting in a taller blonder man, that didn't mean she didn't focus on him, if just for a little bit. And while she always leaned into the _other_ boy's hugs, she still held Gabe tight to her, close enough that he could always feel his cheeks heat from smelling her hair. So, while he knew that it wasn't very likely that she'd suddenly decide to stop looking at someone else and finally notice that all she needed was _right there_, right in front of her eyes, Gabe would continue his little charade act, telling himself that it wasn't hopeless, pretending that the attention he gave her was appreciated and she would someday return it.

After all, he could tell himself, Emma was plenty unexpected herself, so maybe he wasn't being as far-fetched as he thought.

He knew better though, deep down, but he didn't ever want to admit it.

It was like a really, really bad, completely messed up, twisted version of some kind of television drama. Only, some cruel soul out there decided that it would be fun to spruce things up a little and add his own dark humor to the equation, so in the end the boy _didn't _get the girl like it should've gone; rather, a handsomer, more charming, more outgoing, laughable friend did.

It was kind of, sort of, really annoying.

But no matter how much he hated this act and would rather abandon all thought of that certain bird, he knew he wouldn't, so he'd play the game of make believe if he had to, and he had to until it became hopeless.

And no matter what anyone said, it wasn't hopeless yet.

**Fin.**


	31. Scared, Honey?

**Title: **Scared, Honey?

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie x Olivia

**Word Count: **525

**Disclaimer: **If I did own Charlie Bone, don't you think this would come out as a story collection or something instead of a fanfic?

**Warning/s: **Yeah, nothing really, sorry. xD

**Summary: **He hated it.

**A/N: **I'm in the spirit, don't blame me. I can't help it, really.

* * *

It happened every time something scary happened. Scary movies, scary theme parks, scary books, scary people. Every. Time.

He would always ask, "Scared, honey?"

"No," She would always reply.

She wasn't ever, _ever_ scared. She was practically fearless. It made him giddy inside to think about it. It amazed him. It inspired him.

It bugged him to unimaginable ends.

* * *

Charlie glared at him costume, analyzing every hair, fiber, and wrinkle. Meticulously, he smoothed out the stomach, which always ended up wrinkled because it hung right over his doorknob, swaying and twisting and traditionally being abused. He tilted his head one way, the other way, looked closer…and nodded. It would do. It gave him the chills just looking at it, so it had to work.

Fidelio flipped a page in the sheet music book he'd brought with him. "That's not going to work."

"Oh, come on, Fido," Charlie scoffed, huffing as he turned to look at his friend, who was situated rather comfortably on _his _bed (hadn't he told him to keep off?), and scowling at the lazy picture the lounging boy made. "'Course it'll work. Even I'm scared of it. _Me._"

The music prodigy looked at his friend with a look that obviously ridiculed that statement.

"What?" Charlie asked.

"Charlie, you're scared of _The Goonies._"

The boy with unruly black hair frowned, "That's a low blow."

"I know," Fidelio answered, turning back to his music book. He scanned it, tapping with his finger as if he were actually playing the guitar, which was his current project.

The little hero looked back at his costume, scrutinized it, then turned back to his friend, snatching up the book. Fidelio just looked at him like he'd expected it, raising an eyebrow with practiced grace, asking the other boy to proceed in the oncoming question. "Yes?"

"Why won't it?"

"'Cause."

"'Cause _what_?"

"Just 'cause. It's Liv, Charlie; it ain't gonna work."

"Don't gimme that!" Charlie snapped, letting himself fall onto the bed with a bounce. "She's gotta be scared o' something."

"She is."

Charlie perked up, "Eh? You know what?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna tell?"

"No."

"Jacka-"

"I know."

Charlie groaned. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Because," Fidelio said with a elegant roll of his brown eyes. "You could just ask her yourself."

* * *

"Charlie."

"Scared, honey?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Charlie, I'm not scared of that little get-up you're wearing."

He looked at his long, rather realistic claws, the fake blood smeared all over them, the bloodied (itchy) fur covering his entire body. "You're not even scared, a little? Even I was scared by looking at this!"

"Nope." Olivia pat his cheek with a smile, winking. "Not at all."

"Why not?" He whined.

She shrugged. "Because I know you're in there, and I also know for a fact that you aren't about to kill me, even if you're dressed as a werewolf. So why should I be scared?"

"What?" He asked dumbly.

"Yup. I mean, honestly, if I should be scared of anything, it's that someone would come by and attack me and you'd be sent to prison for attacking _him._"

"I.."

"Yeah, I know. But you aren't going to be that tomorrow are you?"

Charlie didn't try to scare her after that, but that Halloween, he did stay by her, dressed more fittingly as King Arthur.

She could be his Guinevere.

**Fin.**


	32. Temporary

**Title: **Temporary

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **One sided Gabe x Emma

**Word Count: **165

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, no claims on it.

**Warning/s: **Haven't read this part since…a while. Might be off. Probably is.

**Summary: **It didn't last forever. But he was okay with that.

**A/N: **I can't stop it! This pairing… CAN'T. STOP.

* * *

She leaned into him, hugging him fiercely as he awoke from his coma.

He took it as it was, inhaling deeply and wrapping her petite body as tight as he could in his arms, hoping she would stay. He didn't deceive himself though, and instead tried to memorize the moment, taking in her blond halo of hair, scattered in disarray, and watery blue eyes, focused on his brown ones.

She muffled a sob into his shoulder, but didn't cry.

He patted her back reassuringly, smiling to himself as his body grew warm at her touch, as he felt himself lighten.

She let go, and he released her, even if he didn't want to.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said honestly.

"Me too," he agreed.

And, later, in an hour or so, she left.

But that was okay.

Because she held him and he held her, even if it was just for tonight.

And that was enough for him.

Even if it was just for tonight.

**Fin.**


	33. Rocky Ground

**Title: **Rocky Grounds

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Grandma Bone and Paton, sibling status right here

**Word Count: **191

**Disclaimer: **Uh uh. None of this is mine.

**Warning/s: **Probably not true. Probably off the timeline too. I don't even know.

**Summary: **That kid could hold a grudge.

**A/N: **I don't even know. I…don't murder me for this.

* * *

She knew why he hated her.

She just found it amazingly immature, and didn't _want _to acknowledge that.

It was because a toy.

* * *

"_Sis, that's mine!" Paton Yewbeam, age 6, screamed._

"_Not anymore!" She screamed back. "I want it!"_

"_But Griz, Papa gave that to me! You can't have it." _

_She looked at the toy, nodding. "Yes I can! I'm the older one!"_

"_But, Grizelda…give it back!" Paton cried, this time, tears pricking at his eyelids._

"_No," she growled, taking the soldier. "It's mine now!" She screeched as she ran up the stairs to her room._

"_I HATE YOU!" Paton wailed after her._

* * *

Really, that was why. That kid had a vendetta against her just because of that incident. Even after she'd given the doll back, he hadn't forgiven her.

It had been two years later, but…

So what.

She was seventeen, and that soldier on the toy was kind of cute.

Was that so wrong?

Apparently, she mused, it was for him, because now she turned her idiot grandson against her, and he burned his other sister's houses down.

It was just a _toy._

That boy had a grudge problem.

**Fin.**


	34. Fire and Ice

**Title: **Fire and Ice

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie , Manfred

**Word Count: **279

**Warning/s: **Nothing really… OH. A few words…

**Disclaimer: **Erm. No. I don't own. I wish.

**Summary: **It was just the way it was.

**A/N: **MAD(WRITE + NOW) = I WRITE WHEN I IS MAD AND I IS MAD NOW. :[ Ahaha, only a loser like me would come up with that. (x

* * *

Manfred didn't like snotty kids. Well, to be honest, he'd admit he didn't much like _kids _at all, any of them. But if he had to say one thing the world could do without, it was snotty, annoying, stupid, persistent, hero-wannabe, stupid, defiant, rude, stupid, get-away-with-anything, sneaky, snooping, stupid, stupid, _stupid_ brats who fought the regulated system just to have their own way. Those kind of hoodlums made him want to scream, made him think they ought to straighten up and be more proper. Because, in his opinion, they should really notice that they annoyed the shit out of anyone _not _as brainless as them.

And that was, obviously, quite a lot of people.

Charlie would admit, had to, that not many things could get under his skin so much to actually irritate enough for him to actually hate them, because, honestly, he was just too chill and laid back for things to bother him so. But, if he had to say one thing that the world could do without, it was annoying, 9-foot-friggen-pole-up-their-ass, conceited, stuck up, bullying, brown nosing, stupid people who thought that because they were bigger, taller, stronger, and/or older they were better than everyone so they constantly looked down their fat, ugly noses on everyone that wasn't them. Those kind of pricks made him want to scream, made him think they really had to loosen up or just shut up. Because, in his opinion, they should really notice that _no one _but self-inflated _idiots _like themselves even cared.

And that was, obviously, not that many people.

So, despite any efforts made to stop it, it couldn't be helped when they became each other's natural enemy.

**fin.**


	35. Dramatics

**Title: **Dramatics

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Olivia x Charlie

**Word Count: **307

**Disclaimer: **I WISH it were mine.

**Warning/s: **A word. And possibly, slightly, AU?

**Summary: **She was stuck, and he was…

**A/N: **_**NOTE AT THE BOTTOM PLEASE READ. **_I still haven't read the last book of COTRK, so all I know is that the Bloors get taken down. Yeah, if Charlie doesn't go to the hospital, I DON'T CARE. He does/did/whatworddoIuse? now.

* * *

Olivia was…

She wasn't _anything._

That was it. That was the truth.

She really didn't know what to do.

Ever since they had taken down Bloors, she hadn't really felt like doing anything at all, and she really hated it. She felt like a piece of her was gone. There was no flair, no dramatic entry, no flamboyance in the step of her presence. It was absolutely, utterly, completely terrible.

It blew her away.

What was she to do? No inspiration, no casting calls, no plans. Where had her busy schedule gone? She was the life of the party before, but now…

It was like nothing excited her anymore, like her spark just blew out.

She sighed. And again.

Sigh.

Sigh.

_Sigh._

_Si-_

"Liv, can you quit that?" croaked a voice from the bed. "It's really not the greatest thing to hear after dreaming for…" He frowned. "Geez, how long did I pass out for? I feel like crap."

Her eyes widened, seeing him.

His eyes were opened as far as they could be after sleeping for two weeks straight, his arm in a cast, his voice raspy and lips chapped. He looked absolutely horrible.

"Must've been like, the whole day, huh?"

But he was okay.

And she smiled brilliantly, feeling her candle lighten again. Ignoring the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes and the sudden lump in her throat, Olivia grabbed his hand, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, sure Charlie."

Charlie frowned, looking at her face as much as he could without moving his head, which was still sore. "Liv, you okay?" His eyes widened in shock as her brown orbs misted, almost spilling salty tears over. "Liv, hey, are you-" he gaped as she launched herself at him and sobbed. "Wait, Liv, I…What did I do?"

"Shut up, Charlie," she mumbled.

He smiled softly. "Alright."

**Fin.**

*This is how I feel. THIS. Well, not the last part, but… So, uhm, yeah. Feel free to (meaning: OHGAWDPLEASEDO) send me a prompt. I'll take anything really. It doesn't even hafta be specific. Just like, one word if you wanna, that'll make me think of something. :3 BECAUSE MY WRITING IS TERRIBLE RIGHT NOW, I AM SO UNINSPIRED.


	36. Something Wrong

**Title: **Something Wrong

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Fidelio and Gabriel

**Word Count: **127

**Disclaimer: **If only…

**Warning/s: **Ah, nope. It IS all dialogue though, if you've got a problem with that.

**Summary: **What.

**A/N: **I don't even know. I just…and it felt right. So deal with it. (LOLOLJK. IT SUCKS.)

* * *

"Hey, Fido?"

"Yeah?"

"Ah…never mind."

Shrug. "Alright."

…

"Fido?"

"Yes?"

"Is…No, never mind, sorry."

"…Okay."

…

"Hey, Fidelio?"

Sigh. "What, Gabe?"

Sigh. "It's just…oh, never-"

"What."

"Is there something wrong with us?"

…

"Why?"

"Well, Charlie's got Liv, Tanc's got Emma, Sander's got Lauren…Billy's to young, kind of, but you know…he's getting some attention now…"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Shrug. "I consider myself married to my music."

"Really." Eyebrow.

Sigh. "No."

"See?"

"We just don't talk to enough girls."

…

"Hey, there's a group."

"You down to talk to them?"

Thoughtful look. "Uhm."

"I thought so, Gabe. I thought so."

…

"Is there something wrong with us then, Fido?"

"Gabe, just…just shut up."

"There is, huh?"

"Yup."

"What is it?"

Sigh. "I…I don't even know, man. I don't know."


	37. Best Friend Intuition

**Title: **Best Friend Intuition

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Lysander, Tancred

**Word Count:**193

**Disclaimer: **Okay, so I don't own CotRK, but this is from a fic of mine.

**Warning/s: **It's clean.

**Summary: **What was it, exactly?

**A/N: **So while going through my old files for "Untitled," which is still on hiatus, I found this part of the story and I decided it should get its own drabble, because I love this part. I think it's one of the things I am most proud of writing, really. So, if you've read that work before and this seems familiar, it is. Because it is that work, only, with a few different word choices, just because I can.

* * *

Lysander Sage had a really good feeling that something was wrong with Tancred, something not quite right at all. Call it "best friend's intuition" if you will, but he knew the young storm brewer well enough to know that he was seriously bothered. He just had a hunch. A really good hunch. A really, really good hunch. A seriously gut-wrenching hunch. One that nagged as much as his mom, screaming for him to go and check on his friend.

Or maybe, just perhaps although it wasn't quite likely _at all_, it just a little twist of what was on with the weather.

Careful as he could possibly be, Lysander slowly opened the ruined dorm door, which was barely intact and almost shredding off its hinges, and stuck his head in, then pulled it out faster than any normal person should have been able to. Nothing was abnormal in there; just a bit of quite heavy rain and some, oh, about 200 miles per hour wind.

Nothing strange at all.

Lysander sat back down by the wrecked door, sliding down the wall. He looked at the ceiling, smiling, and thought, _definitely best friend's intuition._

**Fin.**_  
_


	38. Her Philosophy

**Title: **Her Philosophy

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Olivia, and it implies at everyone else

**Word Count: **155

**Disclaimer: **Okay, so I don't own CotRK, but can you blame me for wanting to?

**Warning/s: **It's clean.

**Summary: **It was what it was. And she got that.

**A/N: **I friggen _L O V E_ this poem. It is epic.

* * *

_All the world's a stage,_

_And all the men and women merely players;_

_They have their exits and their entrances,_

_And one man in his time plays many parts_

William Shakespeare - "All the World's a Stage" from _As You Like It

* * *

_

A lot of people didn't understand her.

And she got that.

A lot of people didn't understand why or how she did things, and whatever for.

And she got that.

But most of all, a lot of people misjudged her for the eccentricity she wore all over the place as a first nature and how she managed to carry herself through it all no matter how many peculiar stares she attracted from who knows who.

But still, she got that.

Because while all these little people went around living their boring little people lives, she could grab the best bunch of actors that the world's theatre could offer her and together they would create the greatest damn play ever and blow away all those boring little people's minds.

Because that was just how Olivia saw everything.

All the world was _her_ stage, and she was going to steal the show before the cue was over.

**Fin.**


	39. Off Days

**Title: **Off Days

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie, mentions the others

**Word Count: **318

**Disclaimer: **NO OWNZ HOMES.

**Warning/s: **It's clean.

**Summary: **Sometimes..

**A/N: **I don't know. I don't even like it. Or get it for that matter.

* * *

Charlie sat in his room, stationed by his computer desk. He sighed, looking venomously at the mechanical contraption. It was _supposed to _cure his boredom, but it sure wasn't helping it at all. What was wrong with the thing? He ought to fire it, charges of not doing its job.

He scowled after a slight, pregnant pause.

He was so bored he had just considered _firing his computer._

Charlie spun in the chair and got up. He walked towards his bed, but paused as he noticed the unused bed Billy usually- but not this weekend- occupied. He sighed heavily. Stupid Billy; it wasn't like he actually had something to do at Bloor's, and yet the kid still wanted to stay? Charlie almost chided himself for thinking that, know that Billy had to have a reason for staying (namely that new girl in art who had detention and also who Billy had taken an avid interest in when he discovered she was only a year older than the albino, not that Charlie had said or thought anything about that since he was sworn to secrecy by the other boy) but he decided that for once, it was okay because he was also too far in thinking: stupid Fido and his concerts, Olivia and her plays, Tanc and Emma on their "art project research," Ben for going to France without leaving behind Runner Beam, Gabe for going around with that petition (which Charlie _should _have been helping with by the honestly felt too lazy to walk around the city to do), Sander for his father's big court summon that the family, for whatever reason, just _couldn't _miss…

As the final though passed through his head, Charlie couldn't help but make a face, but he still thought it: stupid Manfred for not causing any trouble.

It was boring weekends like this that actually made him want to go back to Bloor's.

**Fin.**


	40. Why

**Title: **Why

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Manfred (and his rambling thoughts)

**Word Count: **329

**Disclaimer: **I don't own ! :D

**Warning/s: **Clean, I think.

**Summary: **If you asked him…

**A/N: **I've actually had this one for a while, as with the next two, I just never uploaded them… ^^" I don't know why I do these Charlie says/thinks then Manfred, especially because I can never end them in a way I like, but whatever. OH AND GOOD NEWS IF YOU CARE: I found a way to type on my iPod, email it to myself, transfer to a document, and then upload, so now I can type on the go YAAAAAY ! :D

* * *

If asked, Charlie would say that he was doing all he was to help the people, all for the "greater good," because it was the right thing to do. He would tell you that any casualties in his elaborately planned rescues were terrible consequences that shouldn't had happened, for they were sad losses, and that they didn't have to die or get hurt or whatever happened to them. He would tell you that everything was going _fine_ and that they were definitely winning.

But, to Manfred, that wasn't right at all.

In the slightest.

He couldn't understand why all the children were so opposed to what he and his grandfather were doing. Wasn't it a good thing for all the original protectors of the city to come back? Sure it was all of the "bad ones," whatever _that _was supposed to mean, but it wasn't like they could bring back any of those deemed "good" anyways; _they_ had quite cowardly run away to all different parts of the world, so who knew where their skeletons were. And besides, even if he did know, who would want a protector that ran away from potential danger rather than face it? Pointless, that's what it was. What kind of guardian would that be? As for the kid's plans, well, he'd have to say sometimes they fooled him, but they were so reckless. Couldn't he at the very least be more careful with things? How many casualties did there have to be for a lost cause? Oh, those lost souls. It had to be said that Manfred regretted their loss, because, really, anyone was a great asset to the world in some way, but he saw them as a necessary sacrifice that he couldn't help, because their contribution to world probably was getting hurt to fulfill something that would ultimately be better. It wasn't his fault that their destiny sucked.

And Manfred would definitely tell you that those kids had nothing on him.

**Fin.**


	41. Never

**Title: **Never

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Gabriel

**Word Count: **167

**Disclaimer: **I don't own ! :D

**Warning/s: **A little angst-y, I'm not sure why.

**Summary: **Gabriel wasn't ever sad. Not anymore.

**A/N: **I _love_ this poem too! :D And, uhm, I'm not really sure what to make of this one, except that I was listening to "Not Alone" by Saosin (cool song, bro xD), and this kind of sprung from it. (Oh, man, and FF was being a total, er, _brat _with me when I tried to upload this guy. - -")

* * *

_I wandered lonely as a cloud_  
_That floats on high o'er vales and hills,_  
_When all at once I saw a crowd,_  
_A host, of golden daffodils;_

_For oft, when on my couch I lie_  
_In vacant or in pensive mood,_  
_They flash upon that inward eye_  
_Which is the bliss of solitude;_  
_And then my heart with pleasure fills,_  
_And dances with the daffodils._

William Wordsworth - "I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud"

* * *

No matter what anyone told you, Gabriel Silk was never truly sad. Because, to be truthful, he had absolutely no reasonable explanation in being so on a large scale, and to be so without reason was actually just an extraordinarily terrible way to show one's selfish, snobbish, bratty nature. So he wasn't.

Maybe he looked always glum, but that was just his face. Maybe he didn't talk much or scream to it out to the rest of the world how positively overjoyed he was of any and every possible thing you could be a bit cheerful about, and even a few oddities that most weren't sparks and sunshine over the moon for; that just proved he had a decent shred of amazingly honed practice with self-control. So what if he didn't tell anyone any of that.

The ones that _really_ mattered knew that already, whether he said it or not, so he could be forever silently happy, for as long they cared.

**Fin.**


	42. A Lovely Surprise

**Title: **A Lovely Surprise

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Paton x Julia, implied Emma x Tancred

**Word Count: **471

**Disclaimer: **I don't own ! :D

**Warning/s: **Cheeeeessssseeeee.

**Summary: **He was just in the neighborhood…Well, maybe not.

**A/N: **I HAVEN'T DONE THIS COUPLE YET. OMFG. I can't believe it, but I can't remember doing any. AT ALL. And they are one of the ONLY official couples from the book. Isn't that sad? D; Anyway, yes, loads and loads of cheesy goodness for all you cheese lovers. I hate it. xD

* * *

"Julia?" Paton called out as he walked through the store's glass door, the slight jingle of the hanging bells announcing his presence before he even stepped in. He adjusted his dark shades to cover his eyes more effectively and looked down at his toes, staring at the intently to calm his rapidly racing nerves and prevent any sort of magical mishaps that his unfortunate gift might cause.  
"O-oh! Paton, what are you...hold on, sorry, I'll just turn these off and.."  
Paton heard her shuffling around the shop as quickly as she could, pulling the cords to turn out any lamps and lighting the few candles she'd recently started stashing around the store in case of her new friend's sudden, but frequent, visits. "Sorry about the hassle," he apologized sincerely.  
Miss Ingledew smiled as she waved away the smoke from the last lit match. "Don't worry about it, Paton; it's no real hassle at all." She made sure that the matches were stored in her back pocket carefully (it might be a problem if her bum suddenly caught fire) before nodding, "Um, you should be fine now." She did another once-over of the room just to be sure and found the results satisfactory.  
Sighing thankfully, Paton bowed his head in, inclining it in a fashion Julia already understood as a motion of thanks from all the time spent with the man. He sat down at one of the more empty, meaning not as many books littering the surface, tables as she indicated, and took off his hat as she sat also. They sat in a quiet silence, not fully awkward but...  
"So, are you just visiting, or...Are you...is there...?"  
Paton understood it. "Ah, I just in the neighborhood, sort of, and...Well, honestly I don't really know why, I just had an urge to come," he admitted with an embarrassed chuckle, his face flushed.  
"Oh." Miss Ingledew blushed also, oddly flattered by the comment. She didn't understand it, but she didn't want to delve into herself to examine it further. "Oh, well, you're welcome here always," she smiled as she admitted it to him.  
"Um, thanks," he muttered.  
That lapsed into an almost uncomfortable silence again.  
But then both of them, at the same time-  
"Would you like some tea?"  
"Would you like to go out with me?"  
A moment to blink and take each other's questions in passed, but both smiled and nodded, "Yes."  
That was how Emma walked in on them two hours later, smiling secretively at one another from behind tea cups, holding hands shyly under the table like teenagers. She grinned, rolling her eyes. "Old people," she muttered, sending them an amused smile.  
Miss Ingledew rose her eyebrows as Paton snorted. "So how did it go with Tanc?"  
Emma scoffed, sputtered, then ran up the stairs to her room.

**Fin.**


	43. Airplanes

**Title: **Airplanes

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie x Olivia

**Word Count: **215

**Warning/s: **Fiiine.

**Disclaimer: **I can only _wish _that Nimmo will inherit the series to me or something, 'cause it's not mine.

**Summary: **Together they flew.

**A/N: **Requested by Wishing Rose. AND YOU WEREN'T RUDE I SWEAR ! D: I probably sounded rude, I'm so, so sorry. Thanks for the requests! :D - Now, for my speaking part. I don't think this one came out very well. Actually, it's quite terrible. But I'm uploading another three to make up for it, so…make due? I don't know. Also, I think I'm turning into a romantic sap or something because of all these drabbles. It's absolutely horrible! xD

* * *

Being with her was like flying.  
It was an exhilarating feel, like some kind of magic that was uniquely and only her. It was almost as if she brought him up off the ground and made him soar over the heavens with her (even though he was already in heaven as long as she was there), over the stars and into the deep blue of the sky, defying gravity and going through the cloud to who knew where. She always took them on the best rides too; she was the pilot and he was the pretty-er- handsome airline assistant, and she guided them through the vastness with pure certainty, not letting the darkness get to her, and when she did she pulled them both out with such awe inspiring grace it was magnificent.  
He felt like he could go anywhere with her.  
But of course he suffered from jet lag and annoying passengers that had nothing more to do but keep him busy while they caused as much trouble for him as they possibly could, and that kept him away from her, which was precisely what he didn't want. But, as he couldn't fix those problems, he supposed he'd just keep on her airplane and see what happened.  
He was only the assistant after all.

**Fin.**

*Oh, and if you're doing NaNoWriMo, could you tell me what its like? I want to try it next year but...yeah. Thanks. :D


	44. Butterfly

**Title: **Butterfly

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie x Olivia

**Word Count: **278

**Warning/s: **Fiiine.

**Disclaimer: **I can only _wish _that Nimmo will inherit the series to me or something, 'cause it's not mine.

**Summary: **Butterflies weren't just bugs, and she wasn't just her.

**A/N: **Requested by Wishing Rose. He we have it. It's also not amazing.

* * *

He didn't _normally _compare people to bugs, no matter how vile and disgusting he might find them, but if he had to compare _her _to anything, there would be nothing better than a butterfly. He didn't quite know why, but it just worked, and so he took it as his answer.

Maybe it was the way that she could somehow blend in perfect, a hidden treasure in a sea of nobodies, and she was nearly impossible to point out, yet when she wanted to and didn't put the effort into _not _standing out, she was like a diamond in a pan of salt. When she wanted to, she could shine, showing her true, brilliant hues for the rest of the world to envy terribly. Most of them would only see her.

Maybe it was her grace. She breezed through everything with a natural flow as smooth and quick as a current of water, not stopping for anything except to have a taste of the best of nature's flowers, to walk among those wonders.

Perhaps it was because butterflies were the most admired, most generally adored of that usually hated group- bugs. Although, when one though of "bugs" it didn't normally redirect to "butterfly," ad they were generally _so much better that the rest _that it failed to be thought of as the same, as what it really was. It was usually thought of more in the prospect of unicorns and guiding fairies if anything.

It could also have been because she was, currently, on stage as a butterfly, but right now he doubted that has anything to do with it.

Because Olivia as a butterfly just made sense.

**Fin.**


	45. Candies

**Title: **Candies

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie x Olivia

**Word Count: **969

**Warning/s: **Fiiine.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine..

**Summary: **Everything was going just _terribly._

**A/N: **Requested by Wishing Rose. Err, I'm…the candy part…yeah. It's not that great, I know, but it sounded good until I put it on paper. - -"

* * *

"Charlie!" Olivia said, marching up to him. Her hair and mismatched wardrobe were in a state of complete disarray, which was a rare and usually bad sight, and she looked positively fuming as she came nearer and nearer to his spot on one of Bloor's Academy's stunningly nice, scenic hills, so Charlie couldn't be bothered when Fidelio and Gabriel both stumbled away hurriedly, saying something about relationships and their problems and off to find what was wrong and good luck, or something along those lines. He didn't really care; all he knew is that if _he _had a choice he probably would've booked it too. But, sadly, he didn't, so he just sat there anxiously until she arrived. "Why are _they _in such a hurry?" Olivia grumbled as she sat beside him.

"Er, nothing. Gabe just…forgot his…uhm, jacket. Yes, that's why." _Even though it's about eighty degrees out, _he neglected to add. Charlie cleared his throat at how ridiculous that lie sounded. "Anyway," he added, "what's wrong? You look…"

"I look…?" Olivia repeated questioningly, crossing her arms and sending him a message that clearly said finish-that-sentence-_I-dare-you_-and-I-will-knock-you-out-for-a-week-I-_swear_.

"Great! You look great, just uh, not in the best of moods?" He finished nervously. At her disbelieving stare, he faltered and waited for the blow.

Instead, Olivia slumped. "Yeah, I…" She bit her bottom lip- she was stressed then, Charlie recognized- and her eyes glistened a little. Charlie had a bad feeling about this. "I didn't get a part in the play," she murmured.

He gasped. "What? But you're fantastic! No one's better than you!"

Olivia sniffed. "Well, apparently there is because someone _else _got the part!" She started sobbing then, and Charlie froze. He almost panicked. Sure, throw him in a room with the scariest endowed kids of the school or let him wander around in old abandoned ruins alone or even stick him in an unfamiliar portrait, and he was pretty much _fine._ But give him a crying girlfriend? No. He didn't even have an _idea _of what to do.

But then she latched onto his shirt, getting it wet with tear, and he relaxed a tad.

"Hey, love, it's okay…sh, it's only one play," He tried, awkwardly patting her back.

She only hugged him tighter then, and through hiccups said, "Charlie, _Sweeney Todd _is my _favorite _play."

"Oh." _Well that changes everything! _He thought remorsefully. "Uh."

She just cried some more.

Charlie felt immensely uncomfortable. Usually he could rely on his wand or his instincts to get out of trouble, but apparently what-to-do-when-a-girl-starts-bawling-all-over-you instincts equipped. Darn.

"Liv, I'm sure they're just, err, saving your talent for a bigger play. Like, one of the most important ones! This _is _just a Halloween show."

"They never reserved it for later before," she mumbled and Charlie realized that no, they hadn't; that this was the first time that she hadn't gotten _any _part. No matter the play, Olivia tried out, and always got that part she wanted, whether she went for the lead role or a random civilian. She always did.

That's bad.

Slowly, he started getting upset. How could they not want Olivia? She was spectacular! She could be anyone, and perfectly too, so why?

He had to calm down.

Sugar time.

So he twisted his arm just so, so he could reach his bag, all the while trying not to let go of Olivia because she was just calming down a little and if he let go he had a feeling she'd get even more upset and run off. He managed to get it, open a pocket, and pulled out a Ring Pop, a pack of four. He blinked at them for a second as a terrible plan came to him. It was the worst plan he'd ever had, but he didn't have a doubt it wouldn't work. He opened one, doing a pretty damn good job at it one handedly, and then gently pushed Olivia off of him. She looked about ready to burst back into crocodile tears again, so he hurriedly held the candy out to her. "Olivia Vertigo, I understand that you've recently gone through a tough mistake on the theatre's part, bust I was wondering if you might take this ring and be with me?"

"Charlie, we're already-"

"I know," he interrupted, blushing heavily. "But I figured if I asked you again you'd realize how utterly amazing you are, see that they messed up because the play would be so much better with you, and you'd return to your normal, charming, smiley self once more." He was so glad Uncle Paton rehearsed his vows in front of him so Charlie could use the discarded, "too sappy" ones, because he _never _would have been able to think of that himself.

Olivia grinned and he returned it. "Well then, I accept, sir," she said, slipping on the candy ring.

Charlie laughed.

But then Emma came flying up the hill with a paper, and excited smile on her face. "Oh, Olivia, congratulations! You got the part!"

Charlie frowned. "Wait, I though you didn't…"

"I didn't." Olivia frowned. "Em, what _are _you talking about?"

Emma frowned also, confused, and held out her paper. Olivia took it and Charlie scanned the page from over her shoulder. "Liv," he started slowly, "who did you try out for?"

"Sweeney. He _is _the main character," Olivia pointed out.

"_Mister _Todd is a guy."

"Yes, anything else you need to point out, Charlie?"

"You're not a guy."

"Er, yes, I know."

"Did you bother checking the other positions? Like, I don't know, Mrs. Lovett maybe? Or _anyone _else?"

Olivia laughed nervously and Emma sighed, walking away. "No?"

Charlie frowned, pulling the ring candy off her finger. "I take that second proposal back. You really are _amazing._"

Olivia pouted, but leaned back on him. "I know."

**Fin.**


	46. Wait, What?

**Title: **Wait, What?

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing: **Manfred x Zelda :O

**Word Count: **598

**Warning/s: **Language. And total OOC. And probably off storyline. Look, it just has a lot that doesn't make sense, sorry.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine..

**Summary: **"What just happened?"

**A/N: **This is probably _way _off of the storyline and terribly OOC too. I think this is cliché also. Oops. Well, whatever. Like I've said before, I'm turning into a sap from all these lovey drabbles. XD (Not to mention my mom keeps buying me _romances _wtf. IMMA FANTASY/ADVENTURE KINDA PERSON MOM. FANTASY. ADVENTURE.)

* * *

"I hate you!"

"You? Hate me? Pft, I hate _you_!"

"Me? Well… I hated you first, so hah!"

"You can take your useless 'hah' back because that's not true. I hated you before you were even born."

"You weren't born until after I was, duh."

Zelda glared at him with a killer intent, one that threatened to scare him shitless had he not seen it multiple times before. She stomped her foot, not being able to thing of anything as a comeback to that. Manfred smirked victoriously, but she snapped, "Well at least _I'm _not stupid."

"Me? Stupid?" Manfred pointed at himself angrily and Zelda nodded smugly while staring at her nails. He scowled, but she did nothing other than flip her hair back obnoxiously. "I am not stupid, neither am I extremely dense, vain, or obsessed with my excessive good looks like you are!"

Zelda sputtered. "Are you _implying _that I am _dense_? I am _not _dense! At least I'm…Wait, did you say I have excessive good looks?"

"Wait, what?" When Zelda just blinked at him, Manfred frowned again. "I don't know. Yes?"

"Yes? You think I'm pretty?"

"What? Are you insane? No!"

"But you said I have excessive good looks." Zelda countered, looking irritated now.

"Er, yes. Maybe I did."

"Which_ means _you think I'm pretty."

"No, not at all!" Manfred didn't quite know what was going on, and now he was just plain frustrated. "You are the ugliest, snobbiest, smartest, funniest, most attractive, terribly disgusting, greatest, bloody gorgeous creature I have _ever _seen!"

"Why thank you!" Zelda screamed in rage. "Oh, and while we're at this, I should tell _you _that you're the handsomest, most abhorrent, cleverest, most brilliant, repulsively amazing man I've ever met in my _life_! I bloody love you."

"Well, you know what? I think I bloody love you also!" Manfred yelled, shaking her shoulders.

"I cannot stand you, Bloor!"

"Oh so now we're on surnames are we?"

Zelda gave him a look of pure disgust, but clutched his arms, still at her shoulders, tightly. "I suppose so. You got a problem with that?"

"Well how about you be Bloor too, Dobinski?"

"I think I'd actually like that, _thanks._" Zelda snarled.

"Well that's fine by me, Mrs. Bloor," he responded.

Zelda groaned in frustration. "Mr, Bloor, I hate you," she said grumpily before pulling his face down to her's, kissing him fiercely. Manfred sighed into it and his hands roamed over her hips, her hands at his neck, playing with his dark hair.

"Manfred, do you- Oh. Oh. Well. This is awkward." Dagbert muttered, staring wide eyed at the scene he'd walked in to.

They broke apart soon after, breathing harshly. Both were red, and sneers crossed their faces, contradicting the silent message their eyes sent each other. "I bloody love you," Manfred hissed, licking his lips.

Zelda stomped out of the room, brushing past Dagbert. He stumbled back as she screamed, "Same to you, asshole!"

Manfred huffed, marching to his chair to sit. He blinked a few times, frowned, and stared straight ahead, looking lost.

Dagbert strode across the room, sitting on the desk and raising his eyebrows. "What just happened? Wasn't that the girl- Zeffy or something- that just came back from college? Related to the twins?"

"Her _name _is Zelda Dobinski. Or, I think."

Dagbert frowned. "You just made out with a girl and you're not sure what her name is?"

"Well, it's not that…It's that…" Manfred mumbled away.

"Wait, what?" Dagbert asked, confused.

Manfred looked up with a slight smile. "I think I just got married, Endless."

"_What?"_

**Fin.**


	47. A Toast

**Title: **A Toast

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Tancred x Emma, Lysander x Lauren, Olivia x Charlie, and Fidelio and Gabriel

**Word Count: **890

**Warning/s: **Clean, I believe.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine..

**Summary: **A toast to a new time.

**A/N: **I am insanely proud of this one. I won't lie to you; I cried a little writing it. I know, I have absolutely no reason to, but I just…wedding speeches get to me.

* * *

Lysander looked at the head table again. Lauren gave him a supportive smile and Fidelio and Gabriel both looked up from feeding Ronnie, his little angel, to roll their eyes at him, moving their hands in a way that clearly said _well hurry it up!_ Gabe's baby spoon hit Fidelio in the face, splattering puke yellow baby mush all over it, and his mouth kept from twitching upwards at Fido's horrified expression. Olivia winked, then stomped over Charlie's foot as he started eating again, making him wince and drop his spoon. Everything was perfect right then, at this moment.

His gaze returned to the middle, lingering at the spot.

The spot where two of his best friends sat, holding hands, their blond heads pressed together. Where the bride and groom were cuddled beside one another, eyes shining brightly and bashful grins adorning their faces, looking at him expectantly.

_Why didn't I prepare for this beforehand?_

He took a deep breath. "My name is Lysander Sage," he began. "And I'm the best man." The wedding goers cheered and he quieted them, clearing his throat into the mic. "Since I've met these lovely people, this couple, we've all come so far, but…to tell you the truth, some things never change. Charlie's still a reckless hero, saving the city one parking ticket or bank robber at a time; Liv's hit Hollywood, finally; Gabe, you've started that fancy little designer clothing line, which, by the way, makes amazing suits," he winked as Gabe laughed quietly, "Fidelio, you're still rocking out to every instrument known to man; Lauren's still a gorgeous babe-"

"Oh please!" She sighed.

"-that I can count on; Tanc's still blowing everything on his construction sight to a mess; Em's started her endangered bird project; and I…well, I'm a sculptor, no surprise there. But we've all grown," he announced. "We've _all _grown."

Lysander took a deep breath, and the lights dimmed- why didn't that happen before? A spotlight swung over him, focusing entirely on Lysander and the front table. As the crowd faded from sight, the lights so dark it was hard to see them, Lysander turned around, looking at his best friends, his _family_, and he couldn't help but feel like they were the only ones he was talking to. He ignored a lump in his throat. "I for one…I am proud to say that I…" He licked his lips and closed his eyes briefly before opening them again, back straight with pride. "I've gotten the honor of saying that I've watched all you reckless teenagers grow into just amazing young people, the best that this little town- which I can't believe we're still in," he joked, making his friends laugh in agreement, "has to offer."

He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. "As best man, I think I'm supposed to say something about how it's been amazing to know these two lovebirds, and how Tanc's a right lucky man to be able to catch such a stunning, talented, great, wonderful-"

"Hey, that's my wife, Sander. Don't go making Mrs. Sage jealous," Tancred called out, making Lauren and Emma blush.

"-so much better than him-"

"OI!"

"-girl like Emma, so here goes: Em, Tanc," he looked directly at the two, and noticed Emma's lip tremble. "I'm going to deny ever saying these words again because I have a feeling they're going to be ridiculous, so listen up. I knew this would happen some day, 'cause Olivia told me so." Everyone cheered in agreement, and Charlie nudged Olivia's side, the actress smiling smugly at her prediction-made ten years ago when they were all just teenagers- that finally happened. "But seriously. I'm proud to say that I got to sit through all those times with the two of you. Through the good times and the bad, the happy and the sad, the fun and the adventure and the magical, those awkward ones, even those emotional ones I'm going to tell you I hated after this speech." He grinned, but his eyes twitched a little, feeling suddenly dry. "And now we're here. At a new adventure. I've waited for it to come since the second you slapped Tancred for asking you out, and now that we're here…I've got nothing to say but congratulations. To the both of you. To all of us. To this new bond. To everything."

He blinked away a couple tears, but he wasn't done. "With…With that said…" he cleared his throat again, wiping his eyes and glad that the rest of his group did too. "Sorry. With that said, a toast." He rose his wine glass, a wide grin on his face, but tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I propose a toast to the newly wed. To Mr. and Mrs. Torsson. Good luck, congratulations, and I hope you two die as old people together."

The girls at the table all started sobbing then, holding each other, and the men patted each other's back, hiding away tears by wiping them away with their jacket's. Tancred stood up from the table, jumping over it, and standing next to his best friend, cup in hand. "Thanks," he croaked, voice unsteady.

Lysander looked at him, clinking his glass against the other man's, and together, they shared the first sips to a new life.

A better one.


	48. But

**Title: **But

**Rating: **PG-13?

**Pairing: **Fidelio and Charlie (not Fido/Charlie)

**Word Count: **108 (I don't know if I ever mentioned this before, but word count is only the fic, not the top intro/AN part.)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own. (:

**Warning/s: **Last word and real life thoughts.

**Summary: **He thought. A lot.

**A/N: On the hiatus - **I'm not going to lie; I took a long break after "A Toast." I thought I should leave it, because I liked that as an ending for these drabbles, and I was thinking of writing an actual multi-chapter fic, but I decided to give this another go first (mostly because I'm terrible at planning a plot for a _long _fic). So I shall spam you with some little things I wrote in the meantime, but never uploaded. Enjoy. :D **On this fic - **I wrote this some time ago. I was listening to this one song, I don't remember what. And _this_ came out. idontevenknow.

* * *

Fidelio really did think too much.

It must've been a problem with his musical prodigal genius brain, a malfunction in his system that just automatically made him ponder infinitely on every. Single. Thing. It was normal pretty useful, especially when he needed to figure something out on his own, but most of the time it was just plain annoying.

Because then he got to thinking about things that shouldn't be thought.

And he thought.

And thought.

And thought.

And all that _thinking _led to conclusions.

And right now all he could think was:

_Well, Charlie is a brilliant friend and all but…_

_He really is a dumbass sometimes._

**Fin.**


	49. Gerbils Know It Best

**Title: **Insanity

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **one-sided (or not?) Gabe x Emma

**Disclaimer: **Nah.

**Warning/s: **Insanity. I was bored and in a loooonnnnggg car ride when I wrote this.

**Summary: **Had he known, it never would have happened.

**A/N: **Like I said, I was really, really bored.

* * *

Gabriel wasn't really sure of what he was doing, but one thing he felt particularly certain of was that, had he been aware of what he was about to do beforehand, he wouldn't have even _considered _following through with it because in all honestly, his current actions were completely and utterly insane, and it wasn't quite his style to do something, _anything_, insane; by general personality rules he was usually rather _un_-insane in nature, and this was the completely opposite. Which meant he really shouldn't have been doing it because it _was _insane, and he absolutely _wasn't_.

Only, Gabriel didn't know what he was going to do an hour ago, so when he walked there in an absent, innocent routine and that suddenly turned into _this_, he couldn't stop it, which inevitably brought on the conclusion that whether he should be formally declared ready for the crazy house or not, Gabriel Silk was still doing what he was doing and nothing could disprove that fact; the fact that he was leaning against the walls of his gerbil barn, speaking to each of the little animals for advice he took completely to heart, regarding them with the utmost seriousness in his demeanor. Had he known that the second he walked in the first sight he'd been greeted to was Rita's- _his favorite's_- big, wide gerbil eyes asking him to indulge in her his reasons for looking so absolutely downcast, Gabriel was sure he would have stopped himself at the second. That second before he _couldn't _stop the rush of words, starting with "So, there's this one girl" and going into detail about everything about her: from how her smile lit up his day to how her blue eyes looked at him like they pierced his soul and how her blond hair and small body reminded him of angels, how sweet her voice was, how amazing she drew, how much of a good soul she had. But that didn't happen, so here he was, pouring his heart out to a pack of gerbils, and insane or not, Gabriel was starting to think that this was working.

Or he was just going loony now.

Because while he had to admit that even the gerbils were looking at him warily, like he would start bouncing off walls next, and that really oughtn't be normal since a person, for one, shouldn't be able to tell that and that meant he digging himself an even deeper hole of insanity, he was getting answers, _quality _answers about this predicament, and that was all that mattered right now.

Because gerbils knew best.

**Fin.**


	50. Angels

**Title: **Angels

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Emma/Tancred

**Word Count: **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own. (:

**Warning/s: **Fluffy thoughs

**Summary: **She was an angel.

**A/N: **Not sure if I like this one. Of well.

* * *

_All because of you_

_I believe in angels_

_Not the kind with wings_

_No, not the kind with halos_

_The kind that bring you home_

_When home becomes a strange place_

Rise Against - The Good Left Undone

* * *

He wouldn't say she was perfect, never, because he knew she wasn't; she had her own faults like every person should, and he was perfectly alright with that.

He wouldn't say he couldn't live without her because he knew it was a total lie; oh, he could sure live fine whether she was there with him or not.

He wouldn't say that she completed him or that he loved her; he was one piece already, and what did he, one of only fourteen years, know of _love _anyway?

And he wasn't about to say some bull about her being some kind of divine temptress, enchantingly beautiful and stuff, because let's face it, she wasn't the prettiest sight he'd ever seen, not at all.

But while he wouldn't say _all that_, it hardly meant that she wasn't an angel to him.

Because while she wasn't perfect, he _liked_ her quirky faults, they made her,_ her._

Because while he could live without her for a fact, it wasn't like he wanted to, contrary actually, and even though he would be fine had she decided to drop dead now, he'd be _more that fine _if she didn't.

Because while she didn't complete him and he didn't love her, that didn't mean she didn't make him feel better when she was around, and he was certain that he liked her more and more each day. And because he wouldn't say she was the cutest woman he'd lain eyes on, that hardly meant that she didn't glow majestically in his eyes and make him feel at peace, at _home _, his own kind of angel.

Because he would say that she made him believe in angels, and he would admit to her being his one, keeping him from straying too far.

Keeping him home.

**Fin.**


	51. Hero

**Title: **Hero

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing: **Charlie

**Word Count: **243

**Disclaimer: **I don't own. (:

**Warning/s: **-

**Summary: **He didn't get it.

**A/N: **Ohmygod, so many typos in "Angel." /fml & not going to fix them. Nah, but this one I was _quite_ iffy about posting. Running out of ideas like yeah.

* * *

He didn't get why he was the hero, and it genuinely confused him.

Charlie was hardly anyone's definition of 'perfect,' and _that _was what heroes were- are- supposed to be. He was precisely the opposite of all the cliché hero qualities: kind, accepting, mannered, charming, devilishly handsome, and all that other stuff. Gabriel was kind, Emma was accepting, Lysander was mannered, both Fidelio and Olivia pulled off charming equally well, and if anyone was 'devilishly handsome,' Tancred would take the crown. But Charlie wasn't. For any of them.

He wasn't, and that was just how it was.

And so it never made sense as to why he, awkward and rude and strange looking Charlie, was always the hero.

He just was _not _the type.

But that wasn't to say he was complaining; it didn't matter.

He didn't care why, or how, or when it all started because it hardly mattered. Without being all those things- _any_ of those things- he was still the hero, and the only thing that did matter was that he always was able to pull through and save everyone (for the most part), which was all he could have ever asked for. So while he didn't understand it in the slightest, he took the title proudly.

Charlie was the hero, and that was all there was to it.

He didn't get the _why _of it all, and he doubted he ever would, but it genuinely didn't matter at all.

**Fin.**


End file.
